


Lions Among The Snakes

by Wake_The_Dragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Idiots in Love, Multi, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:26:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25046095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wake_The_Dragon/pseuds/Wake_The_Dragon
Summary: Soulmate, noun: a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner. In reality: a complete and utter disaster. Or, the Golden Trio find their soulmates in a trio of Slytherins.
Relationships: Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory, Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 88
Kudos: 224





	1. Fate Has a Bad Sense of Humor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to JK Rowling.

Soul mates had been just another example of some magic Hermione had noticed asides to in Hogwarts: A History and she had followed that curiosity to the library after arriving at school. It was a bond that formed between two people-however, at least one half of the pair had to be a witch or wizard-and the first and most obvious sign was that the other person’s name appeared somewhere on their body. The wrist, the arms, back and hip were the parts of the body these names usually appeared on, but it wasn’t unusual for names to appear on other places. That was just the start, as time passed and the bond deepened wizards could sense the presence of their other half (within a certain amount of distance), could feel their (strong) emotions, and could even share thoughts to a limited extent. 

There was some other reference to effects of a _er_ more intimate nature but Hermione’s face started burning the second she realized what it was talking about and she quickly shut the book. 

Ron had been surprised when Hermione had brought it up and when Harry frowned in confusion. “You didn’t know?” he asked, glancing up from the chess board he and Harry had been bent over when Hermione had gotten back to Gryffindor dorm. He asked in that tone of voice that grated on her sometimes, the tone that implied she’d looked shocked that the sky was blue. To his credit, the back of Ron’s ears had reddened after he realized how he’d just sounded and quickly said, “I’m sorry I forgot it’s not something that happens to muggles. But yeah it’s some kind of magic that no one really knows why or when it started, except it’s supposed to show the other half of your soul or something.” 

It had all sounded perfectly lovely until Ron mentioned almost off-handedly: “Except sometimes it can end bloody badly. Just because you’re supposed to be with that person doesn’t mean it can’t blow up in both your faces.” Something most have shown on her face because he finished, “I mean that’s rare when it happens. Most people don’t have anything to worry about.”

Thank you so much, Ronald, for that new anxiety. 

But like with other magic once the initial surprise wore off, it just became something normal. She noticed around the older students when a name appeared on someone because there was a literal buzz of excitement and then a whirlwind of new couples or an explosion of drama. It would have been hard to distinguish from romance in muggle schools except for the implication of permanency that came with it. Hermione often heard other girls, like Lavender and Parvarti chatting and giggling about it in their shared room, but her friendship with Harry and Ron usually meant that she had other concerns on her mind. Including, but not limited to: a giant three-headed dog who guarded a trapdoor on the forbidden third floor corridor, or a monster secretly living in the school attacking people, or most recently an escaped criminal wanting to track down and kill Harry. 

And that wasn’t even counting the amount of focus she put into her classes, with or without the Time-Turner. 

While Hermione couldn’t say she never thought about who were soulmate ultimately would be, it was hardly something she put much effort into speculating on. The downside to this meant that when it actually happened, she was completely blindsided by it. To make it even worse, it had happened when she was so exhausted from her use of the Time-Turner and so angry that almost all rational thought had been blocked out and she slapped Malfoy across the face. Hermione was yelling, hand stinging from the force of the slap, and she was being pulled back by Ron-

-and suddenly froze in Ron’s arm when Malfoy turned his head back to look at her in shock and she saw the letters of her own name forming on his right cheek, right where her palm had first hit.

The silence was deafening as Hermione wrenched out of Ron’s grip and, out of some instinct, she looked at the palm of her hand and saw the name Draco Malfoy written across it. Whatever magic behind this bond clearly had a sense of humor, because Hermione had no idea who could look at her and Draco and think they were soulmates. She was so tired and angry and disappointed, she barely held back the urge to just burst into tears but she had her pride so instead turned on her heel and stalked off to her next class, Ron and Harry at her heels. 

Her day hadn’t improved from there but Fred and George did try and make her laugh later. “Blimey, Hermione,” Fred had said as he dropped into the seat on her right, and George took the one on her left. “Is it true you slapped Malfoy so hard you turned him into your soulmate?”

George had nodded in a way that he probably thought made him look serious and world-weary, “We call it the ‘you break it, you buy it’ method of soulmate finding.”

“Just please don’t spread how you did it around,” started Fred.

“You don’t want to go around giving the other girls ideas,” continued George. 

“Cause us blokes would never be safe again.” 

Hermione did laugh, though if anyone else at the Gryffindor table heard the edge of hysteria in it, they didn’t say anything.

* * *

The end of third year hadn’t been great. Merlin, if Sirius hadn’t managed to escape on Buckbeak, it’d have been a downright tear-jerker. He was still a wanted man though and Lupin had to give up being their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor despite being the best one Ron had thought they had since he started at Hogwarts. Alright the competition wasn’t high, what with the loony who let You-Know-Who share a body with him and the bloke who’d been going around Obliviating people and stealing credit for things they’d done until Ron’s wand backfired on him, but that didn’t make Lupin less good. 

Of course, it was much worse for Harry, since both Sirius and Lupin had been best mates with Harry’s dad and Sirius had been his godfather. What made it even worse was finding out that Pettigrew, the man who’d stabbed them and Harry’s parents in the back, had been Ron’s pet this entire time before the rat bastard escaped. (Pun definitely not intended.)

Just thinking that Scabbers, the rat Percy had handed down to him, the one Ron had liked more than he ever admitted, had been a bloke using them to hide out this whole time. Ron had let him sleep on his pillow for fuck’s sake. He still shivered from time to time just thinking about it. He tried not to focus on it though. 

Just like how he tried not to focus on Hermione having to be soulmates with that utter prat, Malfoy. It pissed him off and made him disappointed in a way that he didn’t want to acknowledge. So he made himself not think about it. He had things to look forward to: his dad had gotten tickets to the World Cup, Bill and Charlie were coming home for it, and Harry and Hermione would be going. 

Everything was going to be fine. 

Until the morning he woke up before they were supposed to get Harry and he noticed something on his right wrist. Turning it over, he saw a name, paused, and then read the name again. And read the name a third time for good measure, because there was no way he could be seeing the name he was seeing. But no matter how many times he reread the letters on his wrist, they didn’t magically rearrange to form a new name, a name that would actually make sense. 

Instead, he kept seeing: Pansy Parkinson. 

Pansy fucking Parkinson was his soulmate. 

Ron let out a series of swear words that were so harsh and so loud that his mum burst into his room in a shocked fury and only stopped the lecture she’d been mentally preparing when she saw that he now had a name on his skin. His mum just let out a loud sigh, before taking a seat on the edge of his bed and said, “It’s not the end of the world, Ron. I promise. Arthur and I were lucky when we got each other’s names, but not everyone likes their soulmate at first. When I was still at Hogwarts, there was at least one set every year who seemed to hate each other, but then I’d see them years later and they were happy.”

The expression on his face must have really been _something_ because she just sighed again at him and said, “If worse comes to worse, no one’s going to force you to be with this girl. You could both just walk away from each other, find other people, and be happy with them.” His mum was conveniently leaving out the part that a witch or wizard would never be completely happy with someone other than their bonded. 

Ron tried to just focus on the World Cup after that, but this was always in the back of his mind, the name mocking him. 

The only satisfaction that he could get from this was that somewhere Pansy -the same Pansy who fawned over Malfoy and liked to mock Hermione-had to be hating this just as much as he was. 

* * *

Harry had felt bad for his friends. They’d really drawn the short straw when it came to soulmates (Merlin, even nearly three years after he’d learned about that bit of magic and he still had trouble wrapping his head around it) and he sympathized with them. Sure, he’d been preoccupied by worrying about Sirius, the dream he’d had, and his scar hurting, but he still sympathized with them and acted like a sounding board if they’d had to vent to him. 

Well, the venting was mostly being done by Ron. Hermione was more the type to just think and worry about things until she stressed herself out. 

The World Cup had been a great distraction until a bunch of old Death Eaters-he’d just learned that was what Voldemort’s followers had been called-started attacking the camp and using magic to humiliate the muggle owners of the campsite. They’d only stopped when someone had used Harry’s wand to cast the Dark Mark-something else he’d just learned about and, Merlin, he wanted to stop learning things for at least a couple days after this. Oh and they had to watch Barty Crouch act like a bastard by firing his House-Elf, Winky. 

At this point, Harry couldn’t see how things couldn’t have ended worse. 

Oh, how wrong he was. 

Only a few nights before they were meant to go back to Hogwarts, he found out who his soulmate was. And to really understand why this upset him so much, you really only had to look at his parents: James and Lily Potter, soul mates and completely and happily in love according to pretty much anyone who’d met them. Right up until the night they died protecting him from Voldemort, they could have been the very picture of a successful bond. 

Harry didn’t think of this sort of thing very much (unless it involves a certain Ravenclaw seeker) but if he had, he knew he would have wanted what his parents had. He wanted his soulmate to be someone he could like, someone he could see spending time with, someone he could really love. Again besides Cho, he hadn’t really liked any girls that way, at least not strongly. The girl whose name he now had on his skin would definitely have not made that cut. 

Daphne Greengrass. 

The Slytherin Ice Queen.

He could picture her in his mind: tall and pale with long, dark brown hair and blue eyes. Objectively, she was pretty, but she’d look a lot prettier if she didn’t seem to always be standing off to the side, looking down on anyone not in the same house as her. If he was being fair, and he was really not in the mood to be fair, he would have to admit that he really couldn’t say she was looking down on everyone with a hundred percent certainty. Despite the fact that they had been at the same school for nearly four years, in some of the same classes, he really couldn’t name one time they’d had anything resembling a conversation outside of being paired randomly together for some lesson. That didn’t make him exempt from sarcastic commentary coming from her direction. 

(“You know my family made the snitches used at Hogwarts. Please try not to choke on another of them next time,” she said, dryly, as they passed each other on the stairs after his first Quidditch match.)

Beyond that kind of thing, he’d never had a confrontation with her like he had Malfoy, or even Parkinson. She wasn’t technically part of Parkinson’s gang either, though he’d seen the two of them, laughing and talking together, so he knew they were still friends. If she wasn’t with Pansy or by herself, then she could usually be seen near Zabini, another Slytherin who acted as if he was too good for everyone else. 

The worst part of this, even beyond the name itself, was the fact that he had her name on his chest right where his heart was. If he’d actually liked the girl, maybe he’d think it romantic (alright, not bloody likely even in that situation) but with Daphne’s name, it was just an insult on top of injury. Scowling, he’d pulled on a t-shirt and finished getting dressed, before stomping down the stairs to where Ron and Hermione were sitting and sharing breakfast. They both looked up, startled, at both his sudden appearance and bad mood, before he muttered, “Daphne Greengrass is my soulmate.”

Both of them winced in sympathy. Ron, frowning deeply, leaned back and announced: “We’re all fucked.” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and hissed, “Ron,” but Harry was in complete agreement. 


	2. Life Doesn't Discriminate Between the Sinners and the Saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the Slytherin perspective. Also, an example of what can happen when a soulmate bond isn't healthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to JK Rowling.

Draco had always known who he was. He was a son of the proud Malfoy family, who could trace their family tree all the way back to William the Conqueror. His ancestor, Armand Malfoy, had made himself indispensable to the first Norman King of England and had been gifted land in Wiltshire on which he built a manor that was not only still standing, but one his family lived in to this day. He had grown up learning his family tree and history from his father, who had impressed on him that the Malfoy name came with a lot of privileges but a lot of obligations as well.

None of which a muggleborn soulmate would help with.

When he’d been slapped by Hermione Granger, besides the pain (her slap really did have surprising amount of strength in it despite it coming from a girl who practically lived in the school library) he’d been shocked that she actually raised a hand to him, and deep down he’d been just a little bit impressed. She’d been pulled off of him by Weasel and when he turned back to look, he was thrown off by a startled gasp instead of the insults he’d expected.

Granger’s eyes were wide and staring holes into him and, no matter how long he lived, he was always going to remember the fear and disgust and disappointment in them. He had no idea what was happening, but he could feel a chill creeping down his spine as she suddenly stared at the palm of her hand before turning and stalking away from him. It had looked like she’d been staring at something on her hand before she’d left, but, no, it couldn’t be what he was thinking.

“You….er…. have something on your face,” muttered Goyle, not looking at him. Crabbe was frowning at him but didn’t say anything. The dread was slowly turning into-not a panic, Draco Malfoy did not panic-a great concern and he rushed off to the nearest bathroom to look. He slammed the door open in his not-panic and hurried to the sinks and mirrors; he grabbed the sink to stop his hands shaking and stared at his reflection in growing horror.

Granger’s name was on his face for everyone to see.

His soulmate was the bossy, know-it-all, mudblood friend of Harry Potter’s. His father was going to be furious when he found out and that thought made Draco flinch; he’d been working to prove himself to his father and this was definitely going to ruin the effort he put into his classes and Quidditch. Speaking of he had to get to class, though the thought of having to walk into a full room with Granger’s name on his face burned him.

He was a Malfoy though and he walked into the classroom with his head held high and smirk fixed in place, just daring anyone to comment on the mark. He ignored Blaise’s smirk and Daphne’s arched eyebrow, though Theo’s quickly covered up look of shock and the many different emotions Pansy’s face was cycling through (happiness at seeing him, then shock, denial, heartbreak, and anger) were harder to ignore. Draco took his seat without a word and kept himself facing forward, even as he felt his classmate’s eyes on him at different points throughout the lesson.

However, if he thought class was bad, dinner that night in the Great Hall was worse. As soon as he walked in, he felt as if every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him and several students at tables he passed started whispering as soon as they saw him. The professor’s table was better and if he had to look over at anyone as he walked towards the Slytherin table then it was that one; though Snape looked even more forbidding then normal and Dumbledore had an assessing stare on his face when Draco caught his eye by accident. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t care what the old coot thought in the first place.

(Out of all the other tables, Draco deliberately didn’t glance over at the Gryffindor one once on his way to the Slytherin table or at any point though dinner.)

* * *

Pansy Parkinson had been in love with Draco Malfoy from almost the end of her first year at Hogwarts. They’d already been friends, though mostly through being put together at the children’s table when their families were having get-togethers or meetings but seeing him around every day in the common room or classes had sparked those feelings. She’d been trying to get his attention for all of third year, especially after he’d gotten hurt by that hippogriff. (Honestly, Pansy had no idea why the oaf that taught Care of Magical Creatures wasn’t fired. How had he thought that was going to end well? But she guessed if the Headmaster liked you, you could get away with murder at Hogwarts.)

She thought what she was doing was working; Draco at least liked the attention she gave him about his arm. The only thing she was worrying over was that within the next year or two everyone in their year should be having names appearing on their skin. Sure, sometimes there were late bloomers, as her mother would call them, who got their marks later but that wasn’t that common. She had wanted her soulmate to be Draco, she wasn’t going to lie about that to herself.

She had known there was always a chance it could be someone else-no one knew how the magic behind the bonds worked and sometimes you’d get a wild card-but she’d thought there was a chance. But in the end and even knowing that her soulmate could end up being someone other than Draco, she felt something clench in her chest when he strolled into class late….and with Hermione Granger’s name on his face. `

It would not be inaccurate to say that Pansy had rushed through the stages of grief until she ended up at anger. But honestly what other choice did she have? There was no way she was going to get weepy in public and she was too stubborn for her mind to be able to deny the obvious for too long. But anger, oh did Pansy know a thing or two about anger and how to use it and she had a convenient target.

That was what got her through the rest of the school year anyway. She didn’t hex Granger like she really wanted, but why would she need to when just ‘talking’ could do so much. Soon enough she and Granger were constantly snapping at each other in the halls, though always managing to stop short of yelling matches. Her friends -well she used ‘friends’ but she didn’t mean someone like Daphne, more like the girls who just wanted to get on her good side-sometimes backed her up but usually it was just her and Granger.

(“Is this about Malfoy?” she had practically snarled at Pansy one day. “Guess what? I don’t want him. He’s all bloody yours, Parkinson.” Granger hadn’t noticed, since she’d been facing Pansy, but Draco had stepped out of a room and froze when he’d heard his name. He stared at the back of Granger’s head, mouth opening as if he wanted to say something, before turning on his heel and leaving before she could turn around. Pansy had just been angrier after that.)

She was glad to see the back of Hogwarts once summer started. She needed to be away from Granger and Draco, and people like Weasley who’d given her a smug look whenever she and Draco had to be in the same room. She just wanted to slap the smirk right off his stupid face.

So the day she woke up to find that she had the name Ron Weasley written across her wrist, she had lost it. She’d just remembered to change out of her pajamas and into her clothes before storming out of her room and down the stairs. Thoughts were racing through her head and she needed to talk to someone; Draco was out of the question, but there was still one person she felt comfortable going to. She went to the parlor and stopped at the fireplace; she reached for a vase on the mantelpiece above and scooped out a handful of Floo Powder, tossed it into the fire and jumped in.

“Greengrass Estate!” Moments later she was toppling out of a second fireplace, coughing, and brushing ash off of her clothes. Merlin, she couldn’t wait until she was old enough to take the Apparition test. She stalked into the hall and nearly crashed into Little Greengrass, who yelped and jumped back in surprise. “Pansy?!”

“Where’s your sister?”

“I think she went riding this morning. But she should be back soon-“

“Tell her I’m waiting for her in her room,” she said before walking off. She wasn’t even in the mood to glare when she heard Little Greengrass complaining, “I’m not an owl.” Pansy walked the familiar route to Daphne’s bedroom and then paced inside said room once she was there. This wasn’t happening. How could she have that annoying, loud-mouthed blood traitor be her soulmate? It was bad enough Draco got the mudblood’s name but she had to get Granger’s friend.

Were they going to all go on double-dates in Hogsmeade now? She didn’t know if she was going to laugh or cry and was probably going to end up doing both. Her eyes were stinging when she heard the door open and looked up to see Daphne, frowning in concern.

“Pansy, what’s-“

Pansy didn’t let her friend finish her question before she was wildly waving her wrist in Daphne’s face. The other witch grabbed Pansy by the arm to stop her flailing and flicked her eyes up to Pansy’s wrist, eyes widening once she saw the name. “I’m so sorry, Pansy.”

That was all it took for the tears to start and Daphne gently guided her to the bed and made her sit down. She felt Daphne’s arm wrap around her shoulders and Pansy leaned in, burying her face on Daphne’s shoulder. This would have been unthinkable at Hogwarts-too many eyes and ears there, too many who could use this moment of weakness against her-or even around some of her other friends, but she had known Daphne almost as long as she’d known Draco, could remember Daphne as the shy girl with the stutter that she’d been. She trusted Daphne and trust was not something easily earned.

“Yes, that’s it. Just cry all over Daphne’s expensive new top,” she said dryly, but her tone was missing the bite it often had when directed at members of other houses.

Pansy made a noise somewhere between a giggle and a snort. “That was pathetic.”

“And you still laughed. I’ll take that as a win.”

* * *

Daphne Greengrass hadn’t been a fan of the soulmate concept for years now. She could even pinpoint the exact moment her disillusionment started: the night before her sixth birthday when her father finally told her mother that, soulmates or not, he had never loved her and had only married her out of both obligation to the bond and to the alliance with her family. This had then turned into a screaming match in her father’s study accompanied by the sound of glass being thrown at a wall.

Astoria had been scared by the shouting and spent most of the night crying. Daphne had to be the one who tried to comfort her sister, even letting Tori sleep in her room that night.

Their mother had never been the same after that fight. Something had broken inside and couldn’t be fixed. Their father did actually seem to feel some guilt for that, but some things just couldn’t be taken back.

Daphne had no desire to become either of her parents. The soulmate bond was something she was suspicious of at worst and ambivalent about at best. Something that could either be dealt with directly when the time came or ignored completely if it came down to it.

(Astoria, on the other hand, had taken the breakdown of their parents relationship as a sort of challenge. And then had been horrified when she had found out how Daphne felt about it.

It had been over Christmas break during Astoria’s first year:

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it is, Tori.”

Her sister had gotten that look on her face that she’d gotten when she was seven and had found out her favorite book series was over. “No, I’m not! I don’t believe you. Giving up isn’t like you, Daphne!”

Daphne really wished that she could take back the last five minutes. She just hadn’t realized that Astoria was such a romantic and she hated her little sister looking so disappointed in her. “I’m not giving up on anything. I just don’t want this like you do!”

Why did this have to be such a problem? Daphne wasn’t telling Astoria to stop hoping that her eventual soulmate was going to be the love of her life. Yes, part of her did want to tell her not to pin all her hopes on a bond that no one understood, but this conversation was going downhill fast and she sure as hell wasn’t making it worse. She also knew deep down that if it was in her power to do so, she would give up a lot to help Astoria, even if it was helping with the ‘true love’ thing.

Unfortunately, she didn’t realize that sentiment went both ways.

Astoria just shook her head and then squared her shoulders. “I’m not going to let you just give up before even trying, Daph.” And before Daphne could remind Astoria that a) she was Tori’s older sister, and not the other way around, and b) she could not actually make Daphne do anything, her sister tossed her hair over her shoulder and strode away.

“Don’t slam the-“ she was interrupted by the door being slammed shut- “door…”)

So no, she wasn’t hoping for a specific name or even a name at all really. She’d never say it out loud, but she thought this was at least part of the reason Draco and Pansy were taking this as badly as they were, even beyond the bad connections of their matches. No matter how cynical they acted, deep down they actually wanted some great love and it made sense when you looked at their parents. The Parkinson’s had been happy enough as long as Daphne had known them, and you would have to be blind not to notice the Malfoy’s devotion to each other. It was what made their families so hard to be around sometimes.

She had no expectations and shouldn’t be as disappointed, but she was going to find out that she could still be surprised.

Pansy was stretched out on Daphne’s bed, reading an issue of _Witch Weekly_. Since her parents were away and Astoria was spending time at a friend’s house, she’d invited Pansy to stay over to help get her mind off everything. They were meeting Tracey and Theo and Daphne was changing clothes; Pansy just happened to glance up and gasped, “Daphne.”

Daphne did not like that tone or the way Pansy just pointed at the mirror. She’d been about to button up her jeans and oh….

It was just above her right hip.

Harry Potter.

She just stared at the name.

“Daphne?” Pansy sounded concerned.

Her mind felt strangely blank.

“Well,” she finally said. “At least it’s easy to hide.”


	3. How Do I Hate Thee? Let Me Count the Ways.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of a new year at Hogwarts and the trio now have to interact with their soulmates for the first time since summer. Things go...poorly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to JK Rowling. Quotes used are from Goblet of Fire.

Fourth Year was not getting off to a great start.

Sadly, she didn’t think any of them were surprised at this point, considering now they actually had to exist in the same vicinity as their ‘soulmates’. She had avoided Malfoy as much as possible for the remainder of third year - unfortunately, Pansy was a different story - and was hoping that he would ignore her just as much as she didn’t think he’d want to sully himself by actually accepting a muggleborn soulmate. The fact that Harry and Ron were in a similar predicament...well, it didn’t make her happy that they were suffering, but it made her feel less alone.

The three of them weren’t the only ones who were upset; Harry’s bad mood had been obvious to everyone the day before and when Ginny had broached the subject to them in the kitchen while Harry had been in another room, Ron's answer had been blunt: “Harry found out his soulmate is that stuck-up cow, Greengrass, from Slytherin. Poor bloke just needs some time to mourn.” Hermione had thought that was a bit rich coming from the boy who was still groaning over his soulmate being ‘that Parkinson bitch’, but she was distracted when Ginny’s eyes turned suspiciously bright.

Oh no.

Ron’s head caught up with what his mouth had said a few seconds too late and there was real regret on his face as he looked at his sister. “Gin, I’m sorry. I didn’t think….I should’ve told you differently.”

Ginny was shaking her head somewhat violently and said, “Why are you apologizing to me for? I’m not the one who got stuck with some snob from Slytherin as a soulmate. I...I’m fine. It’s you three, I feel bad for.” Before either Hermione or Ron could actually say anything, Ginny stood up from the table. “I’m just going to check I’ve got everything packed for tomorrow. I’ll see you both later.”

“Oh, well done, Ron.” She grabbed him by the arm when he moved to stand and said, “I’ll talk to her. It might be easier to talk to another girl about this than her brother.” And especially not the brother who’d just told her that her crush had gotten a name that wasn’t hers. She ran up the stairs after Ginny and knocked on her door. Hermione heard movement behind the door and the sound of sniffling, but Ginny was no longer crying when she opened the door. She blinked red-rimmed eyes at Hermione before muttering, “I can’t talk about this right now. Maybe later, but I just...I want to be alone.”

“That’s alright. I’ll be here when you want to talk.” That earned a small smile from Ginny before she closed her bedroom door again.

Things had been more awkward the next day, not least because Harry was oblivious to Ginny’s heartbreak and only picked up on that she was acting more distant around him. “Did I do something to Ginny?” Hermione shared a look with Ron but neither of them gave a definite answer. Thankfully, the trip to King’s Cross was hectic enough that no one had any time to brood on anything and Harry and Ron were distracted first by the cryptic hints from the Weasleys that something was happening at Hogwarts and by the World Cup again. Hermione chimed in from time to time, but without anything to do she had started worrying over the soulmate mark again and decided to be proactive about things. The sound of Malfoy’s voice from the other compartment had brought things to the front of her mind again.

So once again, Hermione was looking in a book for a solution to their problem.

She had a copy of _Soulmates: Determining Fact From Fiction_ by Amora Barone open and was scouring it for anything she might have missed while on the train back to Hogwarts, all the while cursing her bad luck that Malfoy hadn’t actually transferred to Drumstrang. She was sure he would fit in right there with all the other budding psychopaths who were obsessed with learning the Dark Arts. Then he could finally leave them alone.

Hermione was having trouble keeping her attention solely on the book because of the growing feeling of electricity building underneath her skin. It felt almost like she had swallowed a live wire, but not in a bad way. It felt good until she reminded herself that it was the soulmate connection reacting to Malfoy in the other compartment. She felt like she had a rope tied around her and it was constantly trying to tug her forward to where Malfoy was waiting on the other side.

_It’s not real,_ she thought. _It’s not real; it’s just the magic behind the mark trying to force you to get close to him._ Ignore it, she just had to ignore it. She glanced up from her book to watch Harry and Ron in conversation with Neville, both of them telling Neville all about the World Cup. Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson were both on this train somewhere so they had to be feeling this urge just as much as she was.

Hermione felt better when she noticed small signs like Harry gripping the edge of his seat, almost as if to prevent himself from getting up, and Ron was squirming in his seat more than usual and he was frowning every once in a while. It’s not just me.

The feeling started to build and she bit her lip as she forced herself to keep her eyes on her book as the door to the compartment opened and Malfoy sauntered through, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him. Ignore him, she ordered herself. Just ignore him.

She kept her gaze on the book, though she wasn’t taking in any of the words. She had to read a sentence over but her brain wasn’t registering it as the others were talking. Since when did she have trouble concentrating like this? Her hands gripped the book tighter when Malfoy had found Ron’s new dress robes.

“Look at this!” Her stomach roiled at the obvious glee in his voice. “Weasley, you weren’t thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean — they were very fashionable in about 1890. . . .”

He only laughed louder as Ron lunged forward and grabbed the dress robes back. Malfoy wasn’t done either. “So . . . going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There’s money involved as well, you know . . . you’d be able to afford some decent robes if you won. . . .”

How was this boy the one whose name was covering the palm of her hand? How had fate or whatever magic behind these marks paired her with this horrible, snobbish prat? This had to have been a mistake, there had to be some way to change this. But she couldn’t concentrate as the conversation kept going.

“What are you talking about?” snapped Ron.

“Are you going to enter?” Malfoy repeated. “I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?”

“Either explain what you’re on about or go away, Malfoy,” she finally snapped, staring at him from over the cover of her book. He finally looked at her and the mocking smile on his face died as he stared first at her and then at the book in her hands. Whatever he’d been about to say was something they weren’t going to find out and she felt the urge to smirk at him herself.

So she wasn’t the only one being thrown off their game because of the soulmate bond. He took a half-step closer to her - completely ignoring the way Harry, Ron and even Neville had tensed to defend her - and his gray eyes flicked up from the book cover and back to her. There was something shadowed in his expression, something bitter and angry and something else she couldn’t identify. Hermione forced herself to look him in the eye instead of on her name that was still on his face. “Do you think you can figure this out like some assignment in the library, Granger? These,” he continued, pointing at the words on his cheek, “have existed for thousands of years. You can’t drag Potter and Weasel behind you on some adventure to save the day this time.”

He smirked, cruelly. “We’re stuck with each other for the rest of our damn lives.” The train compartment was completely silent as the sheer helplessness of this situation fell on all of them.

He shook his head at her, still smirking that infuriating smirk, before turning to leave and she suddenly knew she couldn’t let him have the last word. “No, Malfoy. _You_ might be stuck, but I’m not letting you drag me down with you.” She was never going to accept him as her soulmate.

His back tensed and he shot her a contemptuous look over his shoulder. “We’ll see,” he said, before storming out, Crabbe and Goyle following him out like the lapdogs they were.

“Don’t let him get to you, Hermione,” said Harry, putting a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. She tried to smile but she doubted it was convincing. The rest of the train ride was spent on near silence and her mood wasn’t helped as a rain pelted against the windows of the Hogwarts Express as it pulled into Hogsmeade station.

Hermione wasn’t Trelawny who dramatically proclaimed about omens, but even she thought this storm was a bad sign.

* * *

The first night back had continued to be shite. Ron has barely gotten inside the Great Hall from the rain before he felt something hit him on the back of the head and explode, drenching him in water. Cursing, he tripped as more water balloons started pelting at the students in the hall. Flailing, he grabbed onto the nearest person to steady himself but skid on the now wet, slippery floor and toppled forward, sending him and whichever unlucky person he’d grabbed to the ground.

There was a curse from a feminine sounding voice and then a groan as he landed on top of her, his weight pinning her down. Ron would already be on his feet and apologizing, but the world had gone funny all of a sudden.

Something was buzzing inside him, just beneath his skin, in a way that should have been uncomfortable but somehow felt good. It was almost like the feeling he got seconds before he blocked a quaffle right when it would have gone through the goal when playing Quidditch back at home. He was also really aware of the fact that this was the (physically) closest he’d ever been to a girl; his hands had gone out to brace himself for the fall and were on either side of the girl and his face was inches apart from hers. There was a pounding in his ears from the blood that was rushing to them and his breathing had turned a little ragged, but then he could hear that her breathing had gone just as ragged.

Ron had no idea what was happening, why this girl was getting such a reaction from him, why wasn’t he moving-

“Get. Off. Me.”

Just like that the spell was broken. Ron groaned and pushed himself up enough that he could actually look at the person he was currently crushing and realized he was staring into the snub-nosed face of Pansy Parkinson. “Bloody hell.” It was funny how all the good feelings he’d been having just disappeared when he knew she was involved.

It was the bloody soulmate magic trying to force him with Parkinson and Ron didn’t appreciate that at all. He would have jumped up already but he paused as he noticed something: Parkinson’s face had turned a bright pink, the color standing out more because her face was normally so pale. “Parkinson, are you _blushing_?” he asked, deeply enjoying the fact that he’d gotten something over her for a change.

The flush on her face deepened, though now it might have been just as much from anger as embarrassment. “Weasel, move now.” Her imperious tone and glare annoyed him, though he was also a bit amused that she could still bark out orders when he had her pinned.

“Or what?” he challenged, only distantly aware of McGonagall yelling at Peeves. Of course it was Peeves. She stared back at him, gritting her teeth, and he was absolutely silently daring her to do something.

Maybe amused wasn’t the right word, at least not completely. Maybe imp-

“So is this the famous Gryffindor chivalry the Sorting Hat went on about? Because if it is, I’m not impressed,” drawled a cold voice from just a few inches away. That finally snapped him out of whatever had come over him and he looked up to see Greengrass glaring down at him. Frowning, he pushed himself away from Parkinson so she could get up.

He blinked as Greengrass just kept her unimpressed stare on him rather than offer a hand to Parkinson. Weren’t the two of them supposed to be friends? Instead, she stood up without help just as Harry and Hermione stopped by him. Greengrass swept that haughty look over his friends before turning to speak to Parkinson. “Come on, Pans. There’s better company inside.”

Parkinson glared at him one last time before following the other witch inside the dining hall. Greengrass said something he couldn’t hear to her and she laughed as he watched them walk to the table on the other side of the hall. He was never going to understand Slytherins.

“She just ignored me,” Harry grumbled.

Hermione, who was still in a bad mood from the encounter with Malfoy on the train, rolled her eyes at their friend. “Honestly, Harry, it’s not like you said hi to her either.” Her throat sounded hoarse all of a sudden and it wouldn’t be until later that he’d find out McGonagall had accidentally grabbed her around the neck to stop from falling. She rounded on Ron then and hissed, “And you! What were you playing at with Parkinson? It shouldn’t have taken you that long to get up.” Luckily the sound of his stomach grumbling stopped that potential argument before it started and the three of them made their way to the Gryffindor table.

The rest of the night had been hit and miss. The feast was great, though Hermione got into another funk when she found out that House Elves worked at Hogwarts. (He was already getting the bad feeling that this was about to becoming A Thing for her.)The headmaster then apparently had lost his mind because he announced there would be no Quidditch this year. Merlin, it was a good thing Wood already graduated because Ron could just imagine his breakdown at that news. During that, their new Defense Against the Dark professor arrived during Dumbledore’s speech and he was excited to see that it was Mad-Eye Moody, the famous Auror. Nothing could be more interesting than that:

“As I was saying,” Dumbledore said, smiling, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

Never mind, Ron clearly had no idea what he’d been thinking. Dumbledore launched into an explanation of the tournament and while Hermione got stuck on the death toll part, everyone else was focused on the glory and riches. Blimey, wouldn’t it be nice to win that kind of money- his mind flashed inadvertently to a nearly empty bank vault at Gringotts-but that dream ended when the age restriction was announced.

A thousand galleons though…

He left with Hermione and Harry but paused when he noticed Parkinson talking with Greengrass and Malfoy. She spotted him and shot him a smirk that clearly promised that she was planning to murder him.

“Do you reckon I should start sleeping with one eye open?” he asked the other two, nodding towards the group. Hermione pursed her lips and didn’t comment and Harry just chuckled under his breath as he caught Parkinson smirking at Ron.

This had turned into an interesting welcome back.

* * *

Even with the news of the tournament and upcoming arrival of students from Beauxbatons and Drumstramg, the previous night had not been as good a return as it could have been. Today would be better. He wanted to think today would be better.

All things considered, it ended up being more of a mixed bag. The storm had ended and Hermione had decided not to have a hunger strike in protest of Hogwarts’ use of House-Elves, but he hadn’t received a reply from Sirius yet for the letter he sent before school started and they had to have Care of Magical Creatures class with the Slytherins.

The one bright spot there was that it wasn’t a class Daphne Greengrass had elected to take. Harry was still annoyed that she ignored him last night. It made no sense to him -he didn’t want her as a soulmate in the first place-but she’d acted as if he’d been wearing his invisibility cloak and that made him grit his teeth. He hadn’t said anything to Ron and Hermione yet, even though he knew they had to be experiencing it too, but just standing in the Great Hall with her at the same time made him feel as if he was readying for a dive after seeing the snitch.

And she hadn’t reacted to him at all.

He needed to stop thinking about this now. He’d already known what she was like before and disliked her, he shouldn’t have expected anything different. (He really wished he had waited to send the letter to Sirius until after his soulmate mark had appeared. He felt embarrassed asking Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but he knew instinctively Sirius wouldn’t do or say anything to accidentally embarrass him if Harry asked him.)

He was able to put her out of his mind but that was mainly due to Herbology and then the complete disaster that was Care of Magical Creatures. This time he couldn’t even blame the Slytherins.

_Blast-Ended Skrewts_.

Harry had known since he was eleven that Hagrid had a unique view on creatures most people thought of as monsters, but this was a whole other level. (Then again there was the acromantula colony living in the Forbidden Forest. He wondered if Ron’s arachnophobia would still win out over the Skrewts if Harry asked him which he thought was worse.)

There was the small highlight of Hermione snapping at Malfoy during the lesson (“Just because they’re not very pretty, it doesn’t mean they’re not useful. Dragon blood’s amazingly magical, but you wouldn’t want a dragon for a pet, would you?”) but even that was dimmed by the way they stared at each other right after she’d said that. There was a tension there that was just waiting to explode and Harry didn’t want to be in the blast zone when it finally did.

So he was not in the best mood as he followed Hermione and Ron back to the castle. He just wanted to eat in peace but that was doomed the second he saw Colin Creevey running for him. His mouth was already opening to tell Colin he had no time to talk but he closed it again when the younger boy held a letter out to him. “Hi Harry! A girl told me to give this to you!”

Harry blinked, once again taken aback when met with Colin’s enthusiasm. “What girl?” His mind flashed to Cho but he thought that was a long shot.

Colin shrugged. “I dunno. She didn’t tell me. I think she’s a Slytherin,” he added, almost as an afterthought. He pushed the letter into Harry’s hands before running off. “Bye Harry!”

Harry looked down at the letter as if it was a Howler. Hermione and Ron were looking at him curiously though so he made himself unfold it and read:

_Potter,_

_Meet me in this classroom in the dungeons before you go to lunch._

_-Daphne Greengrass._

Rolling his eyes, he showed it to the other two who looked torn between sympathy and amusement. “Well, mate are you going?” Harry wanted very badly to say no. He didn’t want to give Greengrass the impression that he was at her beck and call and the thought of her waiting for him just for him not to show up was oddly satisfying. But he wouldn’t find out what she wanted and he had the sense if he didn’t go then he was just delaying the inevitable.

Hermione thought the same. “I don’t think she’s going to stop trying. It might be better to just get it over with. Besides, I’m just having a quick lunch before going to the library.”

Ron stared at her. “It’s the first day of classes! We haven’t even got homework yet!” The two walked into the dining hall, Ron still in complete disbelief, and Harry just sighed and headed to the dungeons. It took him a minute to find the exact classroom from the note once he was there, but obviously not long enough for her to have given up and left.

She was perched on top of one of the desks, posture perfectly straight despite that. It was the kind of correct posture that made him wonder if she’d gotten smacked with a ruler if she slouched growing up. She nodded to him as he pushed through the door. “Potter, we need to talk about the bond.”

At the word bond, he looked her over but didn’t see his name, so it was somewhere she could hide. Hers was on his chest above his heart and he wondered if that’s where his name was on her too, but he bit his tongue to stop that question from popping out of his mouth. He didn’t feel comfortable asking a girl where their soulmate mark was. “What’s there to talk about? And why couldn’t you just talk to me last night? Why order Colin to give me a note instead of just asking if we could talk in private?”

Greengrass was frowning at him, though still not showing that she was effected by this magic the same way he was. “I asked him to pass you a note. You’re making it sound like I tricked him into luring you here for me to kill you.”

The fine hairs on his arms were standing up and he knew it was the damn magic. He could feel a pull around his navel, trying to tug him closer to where she was sitting. Well, that was too damn bad because he wasn’t giving in. “Yeah, about that note,” he said as he glanced over it again. “Would it have killed you to write please?”

There was a twitch in her jaw and he counted that as a point for him. “You know what…it just might have. But I didn’t ask you-“

He raised an eyebrow in imitation of a good little Slytherin. “You call this _asking_?”

One of the hands she had clutching the desk tightened its grip and he believed that was another point for him though she kept going as if she hadn’t heard him. “-here to argue. I wanted to see if we could settle things now.”

He blinked. “Settle the soulmate thing? How could we even...are you asking me out?”

Greengrass made a truly exasperated sounding noise and he was torn between smirking because he finally got a real reaction out of her or offended because it happened after he brought up the idea of her asking him on a date. “ _Merlin_ , no wonder Draco fights with you so much. It’s been less than five minutes and I want to shake you. But no Potter, I’m not suggesting we go on a date, I’m trying to suggest an alliance.”

“I don’t understand.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath like she was asking for strength. Finally, icy blue eyes blinked open and she spoke more calmly, “Right, raised by muggles. But I’m going to assume that you know by now that because we have each other’s names we’re going to start feeling each other’s emotions or projecting thoughts to each other. And that’s a liability.”

That was not the word he would have picked but he could see a point in what she was saying at least. He remembered back to the end of first year and the sheer agony he experienced when Quirrell had touched him; if the bond had started then, she would have felt that too. Greengrass stared at him but obviously took his silence as permission to continue, “In old families like mine, we try and handle that through agreements and contracts. Ideally, soulmates would marry but it doesn’t always work out that way and other arrangements are made.”

She slid off the desk and he forced himself not to take a step back. He could feel a pounding start in his head. “I’m not going to ask you to marry me, at least not right now. But I want you to think about it. I won’t ask you to date me. I’m not even saying you have to like me, but we don’t need to be enemies. We can have a partnership.”

Greengrass finally stopped talking and he was relieved that he didn’t have to ask her to stop. He could just leave now, but then his mouth was opening and he said, “I will never marry you and I’ll never team up with you or whatever you’re suggesting.” He thought of the photo he had of his parents at their wedding, how happy they looked, and he was not accepting anything less than that.

Her expression was completely surprised and then her normally icy blue eyes flashed in anger. He felt a sick sense of satisfaction in that. “Why not?”

Harry scowled at her. “You’re seriously asking me that?! I don’t know, let's start with the fact that this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had and it’s making me never want to speak to you again. Or the fact that you stick your nose up at anyone not in Slytherin.”

“I don’t-“

He cut her off, “Do you know what people outside of Slytherin call you? The Ice Queen.”

She smirked at him then, as if that was funny. “Never to my face.”

Oh great, now he had a first _something_ with her. He was glaring at her now as he continued, “That’s bad enough, but the worst thing is you don’t even care enough about your friends to help them up.”

Greengrass’ face went blank for a moment and then she was sneering at him in disgust. How the hell could she be disgusted with him?! She snarled, “ _Your_ friend embarrassed her enough. I wasn’t going to humiliate her by acting like she was too helpless to stand on her own feet.” She moved closer to him, getting in his space and making it harder for him to think beyond his own anger, and glared up at him. “You hate Pansy. So don’t you dare act like you’re concerned about her and for what? Just so you can feel like you’re so much better than me.”

She was just like Malfoy and Parkinson and Zabini and every other damn member of her house. In the end, he just couldn’t stand any of them. He stalked towards the door, ignoring the feel of her glare on his back, and wrenched it open. He turned around then and said, “Goodbye Greengrass.”

And then he slammed the door in her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to strike the right balance between the characters being both sympathetic and also not. It's something I'm very focused on with the Slytherins, but I don't want Hermione, Ron, and Harry to come off as perfect either (even though I do love them). I'm hoping it's working.


	4. Why Did It Have to Be Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is his usual charming self, Pansy is still mad, and the first meeting of the Gryffindor soulmate support group (name pending) happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the Harry Potter series. All characters belong to JK Rowling. Daphne's tongue twister is taken from Stephen King's IT.

Draco had been given no break from thoughts of Granger and their connection from the end of third year until now. Everyone had an opinion on his soulmate, what he should do, and how entertaining some of them found it. “Oh I don’t know,” said Blaise, one night in the common room, his eyes shining with laughter. “I think Draco and his mudblood will be very happy together.” His so-called friend only laughed outright as Draco made a very rude hand gesture towards him.

And then there had been Flint. How could he even describe the conversation with his former team captain?

(“Alright Draco,” he said after he had essentially dragged Draco to the Quidditch pitch and had him sit down on the stands. Flint had a serious expression on his face that he usually saved for matches. “I’ve been your captain for the last two years and I care about you. So I’m going to give you some advice, man to man.”

Was there a word that adequately combined total surprise and confusion? If there was, he couldn’t think of it right just then, so he nodded once he realized Flint was waiting on some kind of response to him. Without a word, Flint rolled up the sleeve on his left arm, revealing the name Oliver Wood on his bicep.

“I have experience when it comes to putting up with a Gryffindor for a soulmate. And the one thing you have to know is: they’re all mad and they’re going to drive you bloody mad too. Shite, half the time I don’t know if I want to kill Oliver or snog his brains out. Sometimes, it’s both at the same time.” Flint had a smirk on his face.

Some things made a lot more sense now.

“You’ll be fighting like cats and dogs one moment and then-“ Flint cut himself off suddenly and squinted down at Draco. “Wait, how old are you again? Thirteen? Fourteen?” Merlin, how many bludgers had he taken to the head?

“Alright, I’m going to skip over the part you are definitely too young for and give you some advice. Since you’re going to drive each other mad anyway, you should focus some of it into competition. It’ll let the stress out.” He frowned. “This would be easier if she also played Quidditch, but you’re both brainy types, yeah? Maybe tests or something then? I don’t know, shite like that bores me. But-“

The conversation went on longer but Draco had only pretended to listen after that.)

Then two of his oldest friends had started avoiding him for their own reasons. Pansy sat farther away from him at meals, made excuses to end conversations with him (but always had time to yell shite at Granger in the hallway), and left the common room as soon as he sat down (the last time she did that, even Daphne winced a little and mouthed ‘sorry’ at him). And then there had been Theo.

Theo Nott and him had gone back for years and Draco had known him longer than Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, and anyone else. Their fathers had been old allies, believers in the pure blood ideals, had business and political connections so it had only been natural for the two to have been thrown together by their fathers. Luckily for them, they’d actually gotten along and had been friends in school as well, even if Nott liked to do his own thing rather than be useful to Draco in his rivalry with Potter.

Well, that had all been true anyway.

Theo had cornered him in the common room the night before they were set to board the Hogwarts Express back home. He’d fidgeted in his seat for a moment, going from sitting straight to stretching out his long legs, before finally saying: “I won’t be able to see you this summer. And we won’t talk next year. I think you know why.”

Draco mutely pointed to where Granger’s name was on his face. Theo just sighed, looking tired and sad. “Both our fathers are going to know about it soon and you know what my old man is like. He’s not going to want me to hang out with you and I’m not going to risk trying to still be mates in secret. Old bastard has a hell of a temper.” His (former) friend stood up and forced a smile out. “Good luck with everything, Draco. You’re going to need it.”

His father had been furious when he found out, just like Draco had expected. Lucius Malfoy paced the length of the study as Draco watched him and his mother tried to calm him down. “That mudblood is your soulmate?! How did that even...no, this is completely unacceptable. I forbid it.” He finally stopped pacing and proclaimed, “I am stopping this now. We are transferring you to Drumstrang.”

His mother had glared. “Transferring him to Drumstrang isn’t going to just make the name disappear, Lucius. Draco has to learn to deal with this now-“ His parents continued arguing like he wasn’t even in the room. Needless to say his summer hadn’t been fun-save for the one bright side of the World Cup but Granger had been there so that had been ruined too-and the school year wasn’t turning out better.

He’d been raised knowing what the soulmate marks meant, how the magic behind them affected a person, and it was still hell to have to live in the same castle as her. And it had been less than two days! There was a constant awareness of her presence, even when he was in the dungeons and she was in her tower, and it was only worse when they were in the same class. He stood as far away from her as possible, but that didn’t stop the pressure building inside his head, behind his eyes. If it was this bad when he was standing here, he wondered how much worse it would be feeling if he’d been standing as close to her as Potter and Weasel were. He was forcing himself to act normal, but then she snapped at him, voice somehow both grating and entrancing. How the fuck was that even possible?

He was stuck in his own head the whole way back to the castle from the grounds and throughout lunch. He barely noticed that Pansy was actually sitting closer to him now while Theo was at the other end of the table now; his thoughts were instead on a certain witch, no matter how much he was trying not to think about her.

She was nothing like the soulmate he’d thought he’d be connected to one day. Hermione Granger wasn’t from a wizarding family, wasn’t raised in their culture, wasn’t wealthy, and didn’t want him. She was one of Potter’s sidekicks and Draco knew that she’d picked Potter over him every time. She was bossy, self-righteous, a know-it-all and a show-off and he was angry at himself that he was spending so much time thinking about her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of wild, curly hair and turned his head to watch her stand up from the Gryffindor table and walk out of the Great Hall. Draco stilled and watched to see if Weasel was following her, but he was talking to Longbottom and Finnegan. He waited a minute and then a couple more before standing up himself. “I’ll see you all later.” Crabbe and Goyle started to move and he snapped, “If I wanted you two to come, I’d have told you.”

Ignoring them and Pansy (who had turned to watch him), he strode towards the doors of the dining hall. Within seconds of nearing them, he nearly collided with Potter, angry at something and not paying fucking attention to his surroundings. “Watch it, Potter.”

“Sod off, Malfoy,” the git shot back. Normally, Draco would have said something back, but he was too focused on a certain someone else to care. He had no idea why he was doing this, other than that he felt just as pulled towards her as he felt repulsed. Also, if he had to be bonded to her, there was no way he wasn’t going to annoy the shite out of her.

He felt as he was being led forward, his feet somehow knowing the direction to go without him consciously deciding. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He was following along a track that he couldn’t see but could feel down in his very being, his magic sensing another reaching out to guide it. Draco had known a connection like this would happen to him since he was little, but the way his parents had described it paled in comparison. In the end, he had tracked her to the library, and all he could think was:

Of course this is where she was. Where else could she have been going?

He slipped inside quietly and walked towards a single table tucked away in a far corner of the library. Hermione was there, reading intently from some book, and she didn’t look up as he approached, as if she couldn’t sense his presence. Without a word, he dropped into the seat across from her and lazily picked up one of the books she had in a pile. He arched an eyebrow as he looked at the cover and said conversationally, “The Many Magical Beings of Great Britain? I can’t say I was expecting that. Did you actually listen to me back on the train?”

Her body had stiffened the moment he started speaking and his lips had formed into an easy smirk as she lifted her head up to look at him. He could feel a hum throughout his entire body as her eyes met his. “No,” she said bluntly. “It’s possible to have more than one area of interest, Malfoy.”

He cocked his head to the side as he noticed the cover of the book she was holding had a house-elf on it. “How could you possibly be interested in a book about house-elves? It’s not like you could afford one.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and he enjoyed the evidence that he was getting under her skin. “I don’t want to buy a house-elf,” she said deliberately slowly, as if he was Crabbe and Goyle and too thick to understand simple sentences. “Honestly, I find the whole thing barbaric and can’t believe this has been allowed to continue.”

Draco could feel the strain as he stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Ah, I see. St. Granger is chasing off after some noble cause, not realizing no one is going to care.” He leaned forward suddenly, gritting his teeth at the sudden urge to reach out and touch her hair or arm. It was the magic and he had more self-control than that. “Tell me are you actually doing this for the poor, little house-elves or to give yourself something other than me to think about?”

That jab had hit home. His smirk widened at the flash of temper in her dark eyes and, Merlin, did he enjoy getting on her nerves after what happened in class today. “Not everything is about you, Malfoy,” she very nearly growled at him.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Granger. Since the day my name appeared on your hand, everything you do is going to be about me in some way.” His tone was practically dripping in condescension and he congratulated himself as her face turned red from anger. Gryffindors were so damn predictable, always wearing their emotions on their sleeves.

“You are the most conceited….I don’t want anything to do with you, Malfoy! You’re the one who keeps coming up to me, not the other way around. And why is that anyway? Having trouble accepting that not everyone in this school is as obsessed with you as you are?”

If she’d been a Slytherin, she would have known the exact amount of mockery to put in that to really pour salt in the wound. Still that had hit harder than he’d expected and the smirk slipped off his face. He couldn’t believe his soulmate was some mudblood girl who he couldn’t stand and disliked him just as much. He grit his teeth as the magic connected them tightened around him almost like a noose as she stood up from the table and gathered her books. “You should really be nicer to me, Granger.”

She had the nerve to actually smirk at him then. “Or what? Your father will hear about it?”

Then she walked off without a backward glance.

* * *

Pansy had known about the Weasleys before she’d even stepped foot into Hogwarts. “He’s a complete embarrassment,” she’d overheard her father telling her mother, when they thought she couldn’t hear them. “Lucius tells me he’s completely obsessed with muggle things as if anything they make could be interesting. If the man had any sense, he’d do away with this childish nonsense and focus on keeping his family afloat.”

It was brief and her father had actually stopped talking a few seconds after that when he saw her walking by, but it wasn’t the last time she would hear about them either. And it had always been the same things: blood traitors, poor, too many children. For a girl raised to believe in the superiority of wizards and her own family in particular, none of those descriptions made her want to have anything to do with them.

Then she was at Hogwarts and saw how true those descriptions of them were. Her first impression of Ron Weasley was of a boy with shockingly red hair and freckles wearing second-hand robes that were short on him; he was a clumsy oaf who’d been stupid enough to believe his older brothers about needing to fight a troll to be sorted into a house. He only became more annoying to her after he became buddy-buddy with Potter and Granger and always fought with Draco. Pansy, herself, could never stay out of a good argument and Granger in particular got on her nerves: some unknown mudblood girl who took every chance she could to show-off in class. Weasley, of course, always lept to Granger’s (and Potter’s, but Potter was more of Draco’s nemesis than hers) defense so he was often a target of hers as well. “Merlin, how desperate are you, Weasel? She’s not going to snog you just for standing up for her,” she sneered at him only last year, before Granger and Draco got their soulmate marks.

And Weasel was her soulmate now. The universe had to be laughing at her.

Especially after last night, when he’d knocked her to the ground and just lay on top of her for what felt like forever. Her mother had told her last year in case she got her soulmate mark that touching your soulmate for the first time was almost overwhelming: it could make your very blood feel like it was on fire and the world shrank to just the two of you.

(“But you can’t get carried away, Pansy,” her mother finished. “It feels intense but you have to remember that you need to be careful and don’t feel like you have to move fast-”)

Fat chance of that happening with Weasel.

She could still see his stupid smirk on his face as he refused to move off her, enjoying the fact that he was embarrassing her. It made her blood hot but not in the soulmate way, but in the more familiar ‘someone had pissed her off and she was going to get even’ way. He knew that she was coming for him which only made it more fun for her. Pansy had always had a temper, could never just let things lie, which was probably why she became such good friends with Draco and Daphne: they calmed her down.

Neither of them were around during lunch though, so she just couldn’t help herself from having a chat with him when she saw him leaving the dining hall. “Leaving so soon, Weasel? There’s still food you could stuff your face with” she said, voice deceptively sweet sounding. She thought of what happened the night before, at how smug he looked when she blushed, and had to focus on it to ignore the pull she felt to close the distance between them, to touch him again.

(It messed with her head: she hated so much about him, but she kept feeling like she had to be near him at the same time. And it just made her more annoyed.)

He frowned at her. “What do you want, Parkinson?” He’d taken a step back from where she stood, leaning against the wall. He wasn’t really looking at her either, not directly, and that made her want to force him to and then….and then…

-and then what?

She killed that dangerous train of thought as quickly as she could. Instead, she tilted her head to the side and paused as if considering his question. “What do I want? Hmm, let me see. Well, I always wanted a puppy as a kid, oh and a new name on my wrist would be great, but you can’t give me either of those. So I think I’ll settle for making you miserable instead.”

He was scowling at her now and she smiled at him in response, which only made him scowl more. “You’re a piece of work, Parkinson. You know that right?”

No one was around to hear, and that gave her the courage to respond, “Aw, is that any way to talk to your soulmate?”

His ears were turning red and he opened his mouth, but froze at the sound of footsteps stalking towards them. Weasley just shook his head and walked off, and she was torn between calling after him and giving into the push of magic wanting her to go after him, but she was distracted as she noticed Daphne approaching. To any of the students belonging to other houses or the less perceptive Slytherins, Daphne would have looked like she usually did outside of the common room (and when Little Greengrass wasn’t hanging around): cold and aloof.

Except it wasn’t normal. It was hard to put into words why exactly, but Daphne was trying harder than usual to keep up the Ice Queen look right now. Maybe it was because her face looked deliberately blank, the way it used to when they were younger and Daphne was trying not to cry in frustration because her stutter was really bad that day. No one else was in the hall now, so Pansy started, “Are you al-?”

“Pans,” Daphne cut her off, “you’d tell me if I hurt you, right?”

Where was the question even coming from? Pansy blinked before saying, “Daph, we’ve known each other since we were like five years old. If I was mad at you, you know I wouldn’t be letting you hear the end of it until you apologized.” Daphne, herself, was the exact opposite.

“Right,” she answered before walking around Pansy to walk into the dining hall. Pansy was left outside, wondering what the hell had just happened. She was going to think the same thing later at dinner when she spied Draco, looking like he was stabbing his chicken every time he used his fork. It was a good thing, really she noticed him because she knew what she had to do now.

Pansy spelled flying airplanes towards both Draco and Daphne, carrying the message to meet her in the kitchens later.

Clearly, they all needed to talk.

* * *

_He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts._

It was a complete nonsense phrase but one that actually gave Daphne a sense of comfort and calm. When she was a little kid, she had a bad stutter. It was embarrassing and frustrating for her, and it was just another reason her parents found to fight.

(She remembered being about four or five and had gone back inside the house to look for a toy, when she heard her parents arguing in the lounge. It was something Daphne was used to, unlike Astoria who was still a baby and got upset by it, and she was just going to walk by to get to the stairs when she heard her name and stopped. Daphne peeked into the room, and neither of her parents noticed her.

Her father was standing up and saying, “This was never a problem in my family before.”

Her mother was sitting back on a couch, glass in hand, and rolled her eyes. “And there it is,” she said in French-accented english. “I was so looking forward to finding out how this is entirely my fault.”

“Well, sweetheart, I don’t see how it could be mine when-”

“You barely spend time with the girls?” her mother suggested, voice sickly sweet.

Father glared at her. “Fine, let’s move on from blame for the moment. Even you must see how much of a problem this could be. Daphne can barely say three words without tripping over them-” She stopped listening for a few seconds and ducked back behind the wall, blinking repeatedly to stop her eyes from misting.

“You are exaggerating. It isn’t-”

This time it was her father’s turn to cut her mother off. He shouted, “What kind of witch can she possibly be if she won’t even be able to say an incantation?!”

That was the last she’d heard of that argument. She took off running to the stairs and up to her room, locking the door behind her; she jumped onto her bed, burying her face in her pillows, and started to cry for real.)

Her parents had been determined to get rid of the stutter by the time she was starting Hogwarts. On top of her homeschooling, piano lessons, and the lessons on etiquette all the pureblood children in her family’s circle were required to have, she was also being taught how to speak properly by some specialist her parents had found. That phrase had been part of her old exercises and it had stuck with her even after those lessons had ended. Repeating it was a good way to keep her patience and ended up being sorely needed during her conversation with Potter.

A conversation she was still fuming about hours later.

She’d never paid much attention to Potter after the curiosity about him died down after everyone realized he wasn’t some great wizard after all. No one knew how he survived You-Know-Who’s attack, but they all realized it hadn’t been some innate specialness that had defeated one of the greatest Dark Wizards in history. Draco hated him and his friends, and never passed up an opportunity to fight with Potter. He also never passed up an opportunity to complain about Potter afterwards and Daphne had to start tuning him out when his ranting started going on too long.

Honestly, part of her was genuinely surprised that Potter wasn’t Draco’s soulmate.

Potter had just sort of existed to her until his name had appeared on her skin. It wasn’t great that he was her soulmate, but she’d tried to be an adult about it. She tried to work with him and he’d just thrown it back in her face, but that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was that he thought he was better than her.

_“Do you know what people outside of Slytherin call you? The Ice Queen.”_

(Daphne had been uncomfortably reminded of her sister’s reaction to her reputation. Astoria had only been at school a few months and decided to eat breakfast at the Slytherin table with her, early one Saturday. “A lot of kids in my year are afraid of you. It’s really weird.”

She’d just kind of shrugged and changed the topic, but Tori had stayed fidgety. Finally, her sister had looked her in the eye and asked, “Are you ever nice to anyone outside of Slytherin?”

Daphne had blinked at the question, caught off guard at first. “I’m nice to you, aren’t I?” she joked, a teasing smile on her face.

Astoria didn’t laugh.)

But what did Potter know about her anyway? Did he think just because he was The Boy Who Lived and Dumbledore’s favorite, he was better than her? Daphne had tried to forget about it, but her brain just kept replaying the whole thing. On top of all of that, she could feel the magic that had been pressing down on her since she’d gotten on the Hogwarts Express getting more intense, almost like it was trying to push her towards Potter.

It was weird to feel this intense desire to be close to him, to touch him, alongside her original apathy, and now hatred, towards him. It bothered her a lot actually. Having to live in the same castle as him was horrible. The bond itself felt so good; just being in the dining hall at the same time as him made all her senses feel sharper and she was uncomfortably aware of where he was sitting at all times. When she’d been in the classroom with him, it had taken all of her willpower not to grab him by the arm and pull him closer to her.

Merlin, that would have been completely humiliating after how hard he’d shut her down.

What Daphne had really hated was that it made her see how her mother could have fooled herself into believing that father had loved her or how father could have believed if he pretended long enough, the bond would actually turn into real love. She was not going to be either of her parents, and so she tried to approach this as rationally as possible. Daphne had wanted to be honest as well, so Potter couldn’t accuse her of tricking him into believing she was capable of something she wasn’t.

There hadn’t been anyone she could have talked things out with before approaching him either. Both of her parents were unreliable at the best of times and she already knew they’d both be useless on the subject of soulmates. On the flip side, if she’d ever told her sister that she’d gotten a name, Astoria would have been too happy and they’d have gotten into another argument about ‘true love’. And Pansy, who’d been there when Potter’s name appeared on her hip, was already having enough problems with her soulmate for Daphne to just dump her own issues on top of her friend.

And then Pansy had decided to take things into her own hands.

Daphne had been confused about why it was so important to meet in the kitchen after curfew, but she knew if she didn’t go then Pansy would have just tried to drag her out. She hadn’t expected that Draco would be sitting at a counter with Pansy eating ice cream when she got there, but at this point why wouldn’t he be? Besides saying a quick thanks to the house-elf that brought Daphne her own bowl, she easily ignored the house-elves at work to focus on her two friends. “Pans, Draco, fancy meeting you both here.” Pansy rolled her eyes at her while Draco’s mouth lifted in a half-smile.

Daphne knew it would be useless to try and prod Pansy into actually telling them what was going on before she was ready; so she just started on her own ice cream while waiting. Draco had a different idea and asked Pansy, “So you’re ready to start talking to me again?”

“Not seeing you or Granger for two months helped a lot,” she said bluntly. She took off the watch on her left wrist, revealing the name Ronald Weasly now stamped across it, and held it out for Draco to see. “And I ended up getting something else to be mad about.”

He winced at the name. “Shite, you too?”

“Us three, actually,” Pansy said, shooting Daphne a meaningful look. Daphne glared at her supposed best friend from across the counter, but it lacked any real anger behind it.

“You’re kidding. Daphne has Potter’s name?” he asked Pansy. Daphne just rolled her eyes.

“You can ask me directly, you know. I’m sitting right here.”

Draco looked her up and down much to her annoyance. “I’m not seeing it. Where-”

“Nowhere I’m interested in showing you, Draco.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her and commented, “Now that’s intriguing.” He looked like he was going to say something even more irritating when he was interrupted by Pansy suddenly banging her hands down on the counter. Her doing that caused a loud enough ‘thud’ sound that both Daphne and Draco jumped (as did a few of the house-elves, working unnoticed in the background).

“Look I didn’t ask both of you here just to listen to you bicker with each other. The fact is that all three of us are now tied to those Gryffindor arsholes,” she said, starting to scowl. “We’re in this together, no matter how much we all wish we didn’t have to deal with this.”

Daphne hadn’t been in the mood for any of this and snapped, “Please get to the point.” Pansy glared at her, which she completely ignored.

“I’m saying we’re allies in this. I don’t want this spreading around school and end up as much of a gossip magnet as Draco.” She side-eyed him and added, “No offense, Draco.”

“How could I not be offended by that?” he sighed, but Pansy acted as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Granger, Weasel, and Potter all have each other, so why shouldn’t we? I don’t know about you two, but I wanted to strangle Weasel yesterday, and I interacted with him for less than two minutes. I already know the rest of the year is probably going to be hell thanks to having him as a soulmate.” She let out a sigh and said, “I need you two to stop me from killing him and getting sent to Azkaban. And since neither of you are telling me I’m mad, I think both of you feel the same way about your soulmates. We need each other to stay sane.”

Now that Pansy had finished her dramatic speech, she was obviously waiting for them both to say something given how she started tapping her fingers against the counter. Daphne and Draco turned to look at each other.

“We’re not getting a choice here are we?” he asked facetiously.

“Probably not. You know she’s going to keep us here all night if we don’t just nod along.” Daphne’s own tone was playful now.

Draco smirked. “At least we’d have food.”

“I don’t know why I’m friends with either of you,” Pansy complained, but Daphne could see her hiding a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we are moving past the first week of school after this chapter. I just wanted to lay a bit more groundwork for the Slytherin's relationships with each other.


	5. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is the first of the trio (but not the last) to experience the empathy part of the bond, there's a house meeting, and the school is attempting damage control. Also McGonagall doesn't get paid enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to JK Rowling. Text excerpts are from Goblet of Fire.

The semester was starting off very roughly and without any of them voicing it out loud, they had all stayed behind late in the common room to vent about things. Hermione already suspected that they would be doing a lot of that over the next year (or three).

“No, she did not,” gasped Hermione, looking up from the book she’d been studying in the common room. In the chair next to her, Ron’s shoulders were shaking as he tried to keep a suitably sympathetic expression on his face, before he broke and laughed out loud. Harry’s own lips were twitching as though he might smirk and his face was softening a bit, but there was still a sense of irritation coming from him. “Daphne Greengrass did not propose to you,” she continued, giggling a little at the end.

Harry finally broke and smiled. “She kind of did. She was nice enough to give me the option of liking her or not, so I guess there’s that.” Ron was continuing to laugh, but while she could see the humor in how absurd that must have been - Greengrass couldn’t have said more than twenty words to Harry before her conversation with him, how could she possibly think that would work - Harry’s description made her feel a bit bad too. And surprisingly it was Greengrass she felt sorry for.

“Isn’t that a little sad though?” Hermione glanced between the two boys before continuing, “I can’t imagine wanting to marry someone without expecting them to at least like me as a person.”

“I don’t get it either, Hermione,” agreed Harry, while Ron just shrugged.

“That’s what these purebloods-“

“Ron, _you’re_ a pureblood,” she interrupted.

“But not _that sort_ of pureblood, Mione,” he said, waving her off. “Greengrass, Malfoy, all of their families treat relationships like negotiations. All they care about is getting the best deal, even with soulmates.”

Unwillingly, her mind conjured an image of Draco Malfoy from earlier that day in the library. Arrogant and posturing, he carried himself like he couldn’t believe that there could be anyone not in love with him. Malfoy was an egotistical prat, but she just couldn’t imagine him accepting indifference in a marriage. The soulmate magic thrummed inside her at that thought, causing her stomach to flip, and she immediately tried to shrug it off. She had her own research into soulmates to worry about, on top of her classes for the year and brainstorming on how to help spread awareness of how poorly house elves were treated.

Hermione was not going to let Malfoy dominate her thoughts, no matter the provocation.

So, of course, the next day he was immediately getting into an argument with her two best friends.

“Weasley! Hey, Weasley!”

Hermione closed her eyes, ordered herself to remain calm, and turned around to see Malfoy, holding a newspaper, striding towards them, Crabbe and Goyle following along mindlessly as usual. She glared at him, but he ignored her to focus on Ron, who’d risen to the Slytherin’s bait. “What?”

“Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley!” said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. “Listen to this!”

“Malfoy,” she started, but he spoke over her, reading from an article by that reporter Mr. Weasley had complained about: Rita Skeeter. The smirk on Malfoy’s face had widened when he got to the part where Ron’s father was brought up as Arnold Weasley.

“Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It’s almost as though he’s a complete nonentity, isn’t it?” he crowed.

“Better a non-entity than a thorn in the side like your father,” she snapped, hands clenching as the soulmate bond pushed against her. Malfoy glared at her, but instead of snapping back he started reading loudly from the article again. Then he held up the paper to show everyone near them the picture of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the Burrow. “A picture of your parents outside their house — if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?”

Ron was so angry at this point that he had started shaking. Hermione reaches out a hand to squeeze his arm (ignoring Malfoy staring at her) while Harry tried to shut up Malfoy and get Ron to start walking. The blond wasn’t ready to let it go though: “Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter? So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?”

Hermione would have said something scathing but she and Harry were soon too busy trying to hold Ron back. Malfoy was smiling like a cat who ate the canary, obviously enjoying seeing Ron lose it. Harry managed to finally say something back: “You know your mother, Malfoy? That expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?”

Malfoy’s face had turned pink and he was fully glaring at Harry now. “Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.”

“Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” said Harry, turning away. Hermione nearly missed it, as she was still trying to hold onto Ron in case he broke free and charged Malfoy, but she saw Malfoy raise his wand and she gasped, “Harry!”, at the same time a bang rang out in the now quiet hall. Harry reacted quickly enough that the spell only grazed the side of his face as people started yelling. She saw him reach for his wand, but then another loud bang echoed in the hall and a man was shouting.

“OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!”

Hermione blinked and missed the actual transformation, but she stared at the small, white ferret that was shivering on the floor where Malfoy had just been standing. Oh, oh dear, she thought as she clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle a nervous giggle that escaped her lips. Professor Moody, the source of the spell that had transfigured Malfoy, was limping towards the hall.

This should have been funny, she realized. Malfoy had attacked one of her friends while his back was turned like a coward and a teacher had taught him a lesson. Moody was speaking to Harry, but Hermione suddenly felt a sudden wave of fear wash over her.

- _oh fuck, oh fuck everything was suddenly so big and grey, besides one bright spot of red, and what had happened? why can’t I talk, and oh Merlin, I have paws now and fur what did he do to me?_

This wasn’t her fear or thoughts but she felt them on top of her own feelings. “Professor,” she started, without even knowing what she was going to say, but she jumped as Moody suddenly shouted again: “LEAVE IT!”

“Leave — what?” Harry asked.

“Not you — him!” Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. Of course his other eye was magical, given how it was constantly shifting around and rolling even behind his head. “Professor,” she tried again, starting to shiver now, but he either didn’t hear or ignored her as he walked towards the Slytherins. She could feel dread pressing down on her, but not entirely from her, as the ferret squeaked in terror and started running towards the dungeons.

“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again — it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more. Pain exploded in her chest, arms and legs, and she had to bite down on her lips to keep from crying out.

“Hermione?” asked Ron, concerned and she vaguely realized he and Harry had turned to watch her. Her attention was still on Moody and Malfoy and she was too upset to trust herself to answer. But she couldn’t stop the whimper escaping her lips as the ferret kept being thrown around.

“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do. . .”

 _You’re a professor!_ She only knew she hadn’t said anything out loud because no one reacted. She was blinking rapidly to stop tears from falling, and suddenly she felt Ron and Harry each grab one of her hands. “It’s the bond isn’t it?” asked Ron, as Harry gave her right hand a squeeze. “Just try to breathe, Mione. Mum and dad say it’s overwhelming at first, but it’s supposed to get controllable later.”

Merlin, she hoped so. With the amount of danger they seemed to get into every year, she couldn’t imagine how much worse things could get from having to feel two sets of emotions at once.

“Professor Moody!”

Hermione felt relieved as soon as she heard McGonagall’s voice. The transfiguration professor was coming down the stairs, a stack of books in hand, but her gaze was firmly in Moody and Malfoy.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” his voice was conversational as he kept bouncing Malfoy the ferret around. Hermione felt a dull thud of pain each time he landed on the stone floor. She was squeezing Ron and Harry’s hands as she watched the ferret bounce around, barely hearing Moody and McGonnagall talking.

“Teach — Moody, is that a student?” she shrieked, accompanied by the sound of books dropping.

“Yep.”

“No!” McGonagall ran down the stairs to the entrance hall and raised her own wand and Malfoy reappeared with a loud snapping noise. He was lying on the floor, disheveled and face bright pink, and he started getting to his feet, wincing the whole time. The bond stopped channeling his feelings to her and she sighed in relief and surprised herself by realizing it was as much (if not more) relief for him than just because she’d stopped getting his emotions broadcasted to her.

He obviously felt her staring at him and he narrowed his eyes at her, but his glare was lacking it’s usual punch. Are you alright? she mouthed at him but he shook his head at her, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was looking all around the hall, but not focusing on anyone. Hermione was very familiar with humiliation and could recognize the signs.

The two professors had been having a back and forth while this was happening and Moody didn’t appear to be taking McGonagall ’s criticism seriously. “We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender’s Head of House!”

“I’ll do that, then.” Malfoy glared at the new DADA professor with real hatred in his eyes and muttered something Hermione couldn’t hear clearly though she thought she heard the phrase ‘my father’. Moody was unimpressed as he moved closer to Malfoy. “Well, I know your father of old, boy. . . . You tell him Moody’s keeping a close eye on his son . . . you tell him that from me. . . . Now, your Head of House’ll be Snape, will it?”

“Yes,” Malfoy practically growled.

“Another old friend. I’ve been looking forward to a chat with old Snape. . . . Come on, you. . . .”

“He should go to the hospital wing,” someone exclaimed.

It took her a few seconds to realize that someone was her.

Every head in the entrance hall had turned to stare at her and she could feel herself starting to go red in the face. Moody’s real eye was boring a hole into her, while his mechanical one swiveled this way and that in his head. Malfoy had stiffened and was...well, he wasn’t glaring at her, but he didn’t look happy either. She wasn’t exactly sure what she could call the expression on his face.

“The hospital wing?” echoed Moody.

“Yes. He was being dropped from at least ten feet in the air. He could be more hurt than he looks.” A few seconds passed before she added quickly, “Sir.”

“I’m fine,” protested Malfoy, but couldn’t stop himself from wincing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Hermione glared at him. “No, you aren’t.”

He gritted his teeth. “I don’t need-“

“I agree with Miss Granger,” interrupted McGonagall, as she waved her wand at her books and they soared into her arms. “He should be looked at by Madame Pomfrey and no, Mr. Malfoy, it doesn’t matter how many times you say you are fine. You are going. Professor Snape can meet you both there.” Malfoy shut his mouth, jaw twitching, but his glare was for her and not their transfiguration professor.

Moody shrugged. “Hospital wing, dungeons. The location doesn’t matter for my chat with Snape. Come on, you.” He seized Malfoy by the upper arm and marched him off in the direction of the hospital wing.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Harry and Ron had already dropped her hands when she’d started speaking, but both were standing close to her. “I don’t think that’s going to do anything to stop the rumors about you and Malfoy,” said Harry.

Ron was just frowning. “You have to be kidding me. Malfoy finally gets what’s coming to him and I can’t even enjoy it.”

Okay, they weren’t so great with verbally being supportive right now, but they still stayed by her side through breakfast.

* * *

The rest of the first week of school had passed by normally. Well as normally as it could when you were forcibly magically bonded to someone you hated and who wanted to make you miserable. Ron hadn’t yet given into the temptation to run down the hallways screaming yet so all was good.

Snape was more of a bastard than usual during their first potions lesson of the new year, all because he was sore over not getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again. Harry thought Snape might have been scared of Moody which Ron thought served him right; in fact, he’d daydreamed about the former Auror turning Snape into a toad and bouncing him around the dungeons.

Alright yes, thanks to Hermione feeling that prat Malfoy’s punishment, he couldn’t enjoy it as much as he would have normally but he still dreamed.

Speaking of Malfoy’s punishment, he’d already had gotten an earful about it from Parkinson for reasons he still wasn’t sure of, other than that he suspected she just liked hearing the sound of her own voice. He’d made the mistake of referencing The Ferret Incident and she’d rounded on him, “Sod off, Weasley. He actually got hurt because of that madman Dumbledore let work here. I’m not going to just sit here and listen to you gloat about it.”

The bond crackled between them and he had to force himself to stand his ground and not back away from her or worse….reach out and touch her. Since the night he’d accidentally fallen on her, he was constantly thinking of doing things like grabbing for her hand, or her hair, or pushing her against-

He was stopping right there before he felt the urge to puke. Hermione and Harry didn’t get how much worse things had gotten for him since the Welcome Feast. Yeah, the soulmate magic was obviously working on them too, but it still wasn’t the same. “Just wait until you accidentally touch Malfoy or Greengrass, then you’ll know what I’m talking about,” he’d told them, not that he thought they believed him.

They would.

He scowled instead and crossed his arms across his chest so he could stop himself from reaching for her if the soulmate magic drove him mad enough. “Sorry if I’m not crying a river over here. Considering ferret time only happened because Malfoy attacked my best mate while his back was turned.”

Even if he didn’t have that specific incident to fall back on, there was also the fact that Malfoy had mocked him, his family, his friends, and his class since first year. Malfoy’s father had given Ginny that fucked up journal and almost gotten her killed. Malfoy had almost gotten Buckbeak killed because he was too thick not to insult a hippogriff. Parkinson could screw off and he grit his teeth as she leaned in closer to him, but thankfully she didn’t touch him.

(The fact that she had to be feeling the exact same torture as him was the only thing that made this better.)

“Potter’s an idiot for turning his back on an opponent,” she scoffed.

His scowl deepened. “They were going off on each other, but it was just arguing. Harry was walking away and Ferret pulled a wand out of nowhere.”

Parkinson was unimpressed. “Haven’t you ever heard of fighting words?”

Ron had opened his mouth to point out that the only reason Malfoy hadn’t gotten a black eye was because Harry and Hermione held him back when Malfoy made fun of his mother, but Professor Flitwick had turned a corner and he wasn’t going to get in trouble for the strong language he’d been sure to use.

Moody’s class later on that day had been interesting. Hermione had been on edge before the lesson and throughout -not that it stopped her from answering a question-and he had to say she had a point. Moody had shown them all three of the Unforgivable Curses and as horrible as it’d been to watch on spiders - why was it always spiders in this place - Ron still couldn’t stop himself from being a bit in awe of moody. Sure, he thought the man had more than a few screws loose, but he was also a famous Auror who’d faced down the worst of the worst and was still alive. He wasn’t the only one with divided feelings: Hermione still seemed a bit unsettled by Moody, Neville and Harry had both walked out shell shocked, and the rest of the class seemed to be feeling like Ron.

That class should have been the real big thing of that week, along with Malfoy getting turned into a ferret, but then the bad news of Friday night happened. They’d all woken up that morning to a large sign on the bulletin board announcing a house meeting after dinner that night. There had been grumbling because who wanted to have a meeting with the Head of House right before the weekend, but most people shrugged it off through the day. He’d had a bad feeling most of that day, but then again that could have just been from the constant push and pull he was experiencing from the bond; it was always worse when Parkinson was nearby, but even when she wasn’t he could feel exactly where she was in the castle. It was the worst magical ability ever.

Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny (who was thankfully starting to interact with Harry more now) all hurried back from the dining hall to the common room before all the good seats got taken. He cursed as he nearly collided with Parkinson at the doors; she looked like she was about to say something to him but Greengrass had grabbed her by the arm and started to pull her towards the dungeons. “We don’t have time for this, Pans.” He noticed other Slytherins all rushing in the direction of their dorms, but he didn’t have time to point it out to the others.

They managed to snag a small table with comfortable chairs and then talked as the common room filled up. Ron shifted in his chair as they waited for McGonagall to walk through the portrait hole, doing his best to ignore the way his magic had started branching out and pushing downwards on him.

(Earlier that week Harry had asked if the soulmate magic was going to be this strong forever and Ron had hesitated before answering: “Mum and dad told us growing up that it’s really pushy at first, but it’s supposed to settle down once you accept the other person.” For example, you’d always be able to sense your soulmate’s presence if they were nearby, but the connection wouldn't be literally trying to shove you in their direction.

Harry had grimaced. “What happens if you don’t accept the other person?”

Again, he’d hesitated before answering. “Well, it depends. It’ll never stop trying so if you’re around the other person, it’s going to be a right pain in the arse. But you won’t feel that part at least if you’re far enough away from them….the mental stuff like the emotions isn’t affected by being away from them though.”

“So you’re telling me that we’re going to have to get through the next three years and then we’ll still have to be avoiding Malfoy, Parkinson and Greengrass for the rest of our lives?”

“Basically, yeah,” he answered, flinching.)

He was broken out of his thoughts when McGonagall finally walked in and called for everyone’s attention. All conversation died down as they all turned to look at their Head of House. “I understand that meeting like this on a Friday isn’t the most convenient for you all, so thank you for keeping your complaining to a dull roar. I will reward that by getting straight to the point: the Headmaster has become concerned of a growing problem in the school, particularly now that we will be hosting students from Beauxbatons and Drumstrang.”

Ron was really getting a bad feeling now.

“The staff has noticed that the rivalry between our house and Slytherin has grown into something truly acrimonious. The recent incident -”

Everyone who had been in the entrance hall when the shite with Malfoy happened turned to look at the three of them. Lavender Brown looked especially accusing, but that might just have been in Ron’s head.

“-might have served as a catalyst, but much of this has been a failure on the part of the administration for not doing more to rectify the lingering divide from the end of the war. Perhaps we hoped time would heal the wound, but that’s obviously not about to happen. The headmaster has suggested, and Professor Snape and I have agreed, that a good start would be more, supervised interaction between yourselves and the students in Slytherin.”

“You can’t seriously expect us to act buddy buddy with the Slytherins,” exclaimed Fred from the corner he and George were sitting in.

“I can and I do, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall snapped. “We will not throw you to the wolves right away, but starting this week in any classes you share with Slytherin, you will now be working with students from that house. It will not end there, but the headmaster believes we should start small.” It was a credit to McGonagall ’s sheer presence that no one else complained. “You have the weekend to get used to the idea.” On that note, she swept out, and the moment the portrait hole closed, the complaining started.

Ginny leaned forward, and propped her head up on her arm. “I bet things like this never happen in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,” she sighed. Hermione had buried her face in her hands and Harry was glaring at nothing.

Ron slouched in his seat with a groan.

He felt a sudden spike of anger that wasn’t his and he knew that Snape must have just given his house some version of this same speech.

Well, this was just a bloody mess.

* * *

The weekend had passed too quickly in Harry’s opinion and not just because of McGonagall ’s announcement. He and Ron had tried to amuse themselves by continuing to come up with dire predictions for Divination, but he was a little disappointed when he realized that one in particular would have to be crossed out. “I guess we can’t keep ‘double wedding to Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass’ on the list.”

Ron shrugged, “It might be for the best, mate. Trelawny probably wouldn’t consider a wedding horrifying enough anyway.” Harry had nodded, but he privately thought if Trelawny had to spend more than thirty seconds with Daphne Greengrass she’d change her mind. Things took a weirder turn that Saturday night when Hermione had returned from the library with a box and a new plan to save the house elves.

““It’s S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,” she had announced proudly as he and Ron looked over the badges she’d created in bewilderment. Hermione had then launched into her entire plan for her new organization, in between Ron trying to argue with her that the house elves liked their lot in life, and Harry slowly came to the realization that they were going to be the first two members of SPEW whether they liked it or not. Things had gotten worse when they were all interrupted by Hedwig, finally back with his letter from Sirius.

_Harry —_

_I’m flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore — they’re saying he’s got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he’s reading the signs, even if no one else is._

__

__

_I’ll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry._

_Sirius._

__No._ _ Hermione and Ron started talking about the letter but all Harry could think was if Sirius got caught now it would be all his fault. Harry was infuriated with himself and deeply afraid that he was about to lose his godfather right after finally meeting him. (Underneath that, not that he noticed once he started spiraling, was a spark of confusion and concern that hadn’t come from him.) Ron and Hermione were trying to calm him down, but he couldn’t; all he kept seeing in his mind’s eye was Sirius captured or dead or (and this was the worst of all) Sirius being given a Dementor’s Kiss. He even drove Hedwig away by snapping at her. 

__

“I’m going to bed,” he snapped, needing to be away from even his two best friends. “See you in the morning.” He exchanged his clothes for pajamas and crawled into bed, but ended up staring at the ceiling since he wasn’t remotely tired. He just kept coming back to the thought: _This is all my fault._ Sirius had been safe wherever he’d been hiding out but he was coming back here because he thought there was something wrong with Harry. There wasn’t anything wrong with him!

__

Ron came up eventually but he didn’t speak to his friend. His mind kept recycling the same images of what could happen with Sirius to the point where he had started trying to force himself to think of other things. Quidditch was one of his usual go-to answers in this kind of situation, but the lack of a season this year killed that pretty quickly. He tried to think of some past memories with Ron and Hermione, but the memories of meeting Sirius kind of crept back in before too long. When he got really desperate, he started thinking of classes and assignments but the first week had been light on actual work, save for Divination.

__

His mind was straining to come up with something to help him sleep when a song finally popped into his head. There weren’t any words and it sounded like it was being played on a piano; it was soft and soothing, but there was something almost playful about the notes as well. Harry had a passing thought of - had he ever heard this before - but soon enough his eyes had become heavy and he finally fell asleep, the song still playing faintly in his head.

__

The next morning, he’d woken up feeling more rested than he’d thought he would and he quickly crafted a note to send to Sirius: _I reckon I just imagined my scar hurting, I was half asleep when I wrote to you last time. There’s no point coming back, everything’s fine here. Don’t worry about me, my head feels completely normal._

__

He sent Hedwig off with it before heading back to Gryffindor Tower, humming the song from last night the whole way. Harry still had no clue how or when he could have heard that song before, but he knew he must have or how else could he have thought of it? Still, he had a few hours of peace and quiet until breakfast, when he told Hermione and Ron about what he’d done.

__

“That was a lie, Harry,” said Hermione sharply. “You didn’t imagine your scar hurting and you know it.”

__

“So what?” said Harry. “He’s not going back to Azkaban because of me.”

__

“Drop it,” said Ron sharply to Hermione as she opened her mouth to argue some more, and for once, Hermione heeded him, and fell silent. Harry was grateful for that and for the fact that Hermione didn’t bring it up again. He spent the rest of his Sunday trying to relax and not think of his three current problems: Sirius coming back; his soulmate; and being forced to spend time with the Slytherins.

__

Monday was just the start of their lessons becoming harder. Moody was making them learn to fight the Imperius curse and Harry could swear that he could still feel his knees aching from where he banged into a desk from trying to stop himself from following Moody’s command. McGonagall brought up that O.W.L.S would be happening next year and that all their classes were going to get a lot more difficult in preparation. History of Magic was as mind numbing as ever, but he and Ron were doing surprisingly well in Divination as Trelawney ate up all their predictions.

__

Then it was time for their next potions class and Harry was dreading Snape picking a partner for him. Hermione had been the first out of all of them to get partnered with a Slytherin for her Ancient Runes class. “I’m working with Greengrass,” she had grumbled that evening at dinner and Harry had nearly choked on his food.

__

(He was laughing soon, however, when Hermione revealed why she was really annoyed: she’d brought up S.P.E.W. to Greengrass and it hadn’t gone over well. “I will give you four galleons right now if you promise never to talk to me about this again,” recounted Hermione, taking on a snotty tone in imitation of the other witch. Nearby Ginny coughed to cover up a snort-laugh and Harry had to force himself to look appropriately annoyed on Hermione’s behalf to stop his own laugh. If he also had to fight the urge to look back at the Slytherin table at the spot he sensed her sitting at, well no one else had to know. 

__

He’d been distracted enough however when Ron asked flatly: “So did you take the galleons or no?”

__

Hermione had been so offended she refused to speak to him for the rest of the meal.)

__

Now it was going to be his turn as well and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He took his usual seat and clenched his fists, though that was as much from the bond with Greengrass flaring up again. He made himself pay attention as Snape swept an impassive gaze around the room, before focusing solely on the students from his own house: “Though the headmaster’s reasons escape me at the moment, it is my duty to follow his wishes. I do not enjoy inconveniencing you like this, but I have every confidence that you will acquit yourselves.” Despite his wording, Harry thought that sounded more like a threat.

__

Snape then started down his list and everyone was silent as he read out the new partners. Lavender Brown was with Theodore Nott and it was hard to tell which one of them looked more annoyed about that. Hermione bit down on her lip when Snape announced she would be paired with Malfoy, but managed not to say anything. Malfoy looked mutinous but likewise he also kept quiet. Harry might have tried to comfort her but he was distracted by Snape: “I would like to offer you my deepest condolences, Miss Greengrass, as you will have to work with Mr. Potter.”

__

Oh for fuck’s sake.

__

If he didn’t know fully well that the thought was ridiculous, he would have sworn that this was rigged somehow. Ron getting paired with Parkinson made it worse. Soon enough, all the assignments had been handed out and the scraping of chairs and cauldrons began as people started to change places. “Looks like it’s you and me, sweetheart,” Greengrass said sardonically as she took the seat next to him.

__

Harry felt his right eye twitch but said nothing. He clenched his hands as he felt the inexplicable urge to move his chair closer to her - thanks for nothing soulmate bond - and forced himself to look forward as Snape explained that they would be making antidotes. The lesson felt like it stretched on forever and it was made worse as he kept finding himself starting at Greengrass from the corner of his eye. She looked as distant as ever and he just kept wondering how she could possibly seem so unaffected by the invisible tether that kept them leashed to each other.

__

When the lesson was over and everyone was packing up their things, he took advantage of the fact that no one was paying attention and whispered to her, “How are you doing that?”

__

She arched an eyebrow at him, glancing up from placing her textbook back into her bag. “Potter, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yeah, right.

__

“Don’t you feel it?” he asked, voice so low that only she would be able to make out what he was saying. She stilled and he continued, “How are you so calm?” If he didn’t remember how their last conversation had gone and how she’d lost her temper during it, he’d have seriously thought she was only capable of three emotions: boredom, irritation, and sarcasm. (Alright, that last one wasn’t an actual emotion, but she was sarcastic enough that he counted it anyway.)

__

“There’s this thing called self-control, Potter,” she replied coolly. “Some of us have it. You should learn it.” He opened his mouth to reply but she was already striding away from him.

__

Harry thought not for the first time, and certainly not for the last time, that this was going to be a long year.

__

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> I changed the title for this chapter because I wasn't completely happy with it.


	6. Everyone's The Hero In Their Own Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is an arsehole (as usual), we get an insight into pureblood parenting, and Daphne is about to learn a new word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Harry Potter. All characters belong to JK Rowling. Any direct quotes are taken from Goblet of Fire.
> 
> I meant to get this chapter out sooner, very sorry for the wait. I hope to get the next one up quicker.

Draco had not bounced back from the ferret incident as quickly as he would have thought. He hadn’t gotten any broken bones - which Madame Pomfrey said was lucky as she glared at Mad-Eye - but his right ankle had been badly sprained and he’d had a fracture in his left arm, as well as a lot of bruises. The physical pain had been easy to deal with but everything else -how utterly helpless he’d been, the humiliation of having it happen in front of not only Potter but who knew how many other students, and even worse, having to have that Mudblood he’d been shackled to try and help him-was still raw for him. Who the hell was she to think he wanted her help in the first place?!

(History had been one of the subjects his pre-Hogwarts tutors had focused on, so he already had a strong idea of the relationship between his kind and hers. Before the Statue of Secrecy, the Muggles had known witches and wizards had existed; starting from Armand Malfoy, they had relationships with the muggle royalty and nobility, but the muggles had proved untrustworthy: they either wanted to control magic themselves (they couldn’t) or they were threatened by the superiority of wizards and wanted to get rid of them. At least one of these lessons had happened with Theo and Pansy, had included some very detailed pictures of things witch-hunters had done, and Pansy had complained about having nightmares after. (He was too proud to say it but he had too.)

And Muggleborns? They were unworthy of their magic, being barely better than muggles themselves, and were too connected to muggles to be trusted. “Never forget that you’re a Malfoy, Draco,” his father had said. “We are the oldest pureblooded line in Britain. We have standards to uphold.”)

That was what he had always been taught and it burned him to know that he’d been taken to the nurse just because Granger had decided to be all noble. And then she had made it worse by cornering him between his last class and dinner. Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t been with him at the time, having followed their stomachs to the great hall in a rush. He’d known she was close even before she opened her big mouth, the bond was vibrating, even in the roots of his teeth.

“Are you alright?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why do you care? Are you starting to fancy me now?” Gag him now, if that was the case. He ignored the way the bond pulled between them.

Hermione scowled at him. “NO.” She put so much emphasis on the word that he could just imagine both letters capitalized if written out on parchment. He felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. “I think you definitely deserved some punishment for attacking Harry like you did, but I think Professor Moody crossed a line.” The second part of that sentence came out quieter and haltingly, almost as if she had trouble believing she was speaking badly of a teacher. “I could feel it, Malfoy. I know you were hurt.”

He just stopped himself from flinching as he received that reminder that his pain and humiliation had been an open fucking book to her. “I’m fine. I don’t need pity and if I did, I definitely wouldn’t need it from a self-righteous Mudblood like you.”

She flinched before pulling it together to sneer at him. “Don’t worry, ferret. I won’t make this mistake again.” She turned on her heel and stalked down the staircase, leaving him to glare at her back. He thought that would be the topping to this shite sundae of a week, but then Friday happened and Professor Snape ordered them to spend time with the Gryffindors.

Fuck.

Draco was thumbing through an arithmancy textbook in the corner of the common room, trying to ignore the others talking around him. He wasn’t sulking but brooding over the fact that so many in his house were blaming him for this. As soon as Snape swept out of the room like a bat, Cassius Warrington had stood up and yelled, “Thanks Draco!” Vince had been huffy with him and Greg had followed Vince’s lead -as if they had objected to anything he said or did at the time - and Blaise was acting all superior with him. Theo was ignoring him, but that wasn’t new. The first years were still getting used to being here and should be worrying about building thicker skin (honestly, they should have gotten used to it at the Feast when the Weasel twins made snake hissing sounds at them as soon as the Hat shouted their house name) so Draco ignored them. He was working himself into a nice and proper brood when he overheard one of his friends at a nearby table:

“Dumbledore says you have to play nice with Gryffindor and you will. Do not shame me in front of the other schools,” Pansy said, lowering her voice to try (and failing) to mimic Professor Snape’s voice. He thought she sounded more like she was attempting to speak Gobbledegook and wasn’t surprised when she started coughing at the end. “I can’t do his voice,” she admitted over the giggles of some of the other girls.

He rolled his eyes and without looking up, he commented, “That’s not what he said, Pansy, and you know it.”

“What? You mean that wasn’t what you heard, Draco?” asked Daphne.

“She just used less words,” said Tracey Davis.

“Fewer,” Draco grumbled, before he went back to his textbook and tried to concentrate on the chapter instead. But his mind kept slipping back first to Moody, then the confrontation with Hermione, and the two weeks of detention with this nutter of a professor that Snape couldn’t get him out of.

His father had also refused to help when Draco had owled him. He’d only gotten that letter back today, so the enforced bonding with the Gryffindors was only the second thing that was making his weekend shite. He’d open the letter just to get this message:

_Draco,_

_I will not be able to move against Alastor Moody. Besides the fact that I do not wish to relive his wild ranting from the aftermath of the war, it would simply not work. Neither Dumbledore nor the Board of Governors would get rid of a professor right before an international event such as the Triwizard Tournament. It would reflect too poorly on Hogwarts, particularly as there have been increasingly less applicants for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post._

_Furthermore, you made your bed, Draco, now you will lie in it. I told you to be smart when it came to Harry Potter this year. Attacking him in the middle of the entrance hall was an act of complete idiocy, and if this lack of subtlety is endemic in your generation, I shudder to think of the future of Slytherin. I do not agree with the punishment given to you, but I will not tolerate any whinging letters sent to your mother or I. Your mother has too soft a heart when it comes to you._

_You are the heir to the Malfoy name and you will not be able to come begging me for help forever. You will handle this situation like a man. I also expect you to stay in the top of your classes; I would ask you to finally get ahead of your blasted mudblood soulmate, but I realize after four years that might be too high an expectation._

_Make me proud, son._

_I love you._

“Your father’s a real prick sometimes, Draco,” Pansy had said, after sneaking up behind him and reading the letter over his shoulder. He’d cursed once he realized what happened and she ignored him, flopping onto the other end of the couch. On the opposite couch, Daphne’s brow was furrowed in concern, but at least she knew when not to press something. They were the last ones in the common room, thanks to Pansy deciding they needed weekly sanity checks or whatever phrase she’d used. They had set up privacy charms which was the main reason he hadn’t snapped her head off.

“My father is a great wizard,” he started but she cut him off.

“I’m not judging you! My dad’s a bit of an arsehole too. And both of Daphne’s parents suck,” she continued, breezily waving in their friend’s direction. She either didn’t notice or ignored the withering look Daphne gave her. “You’re in good company!”

He opened his mouth to argue but Daphne beat him to it. “Don’t talk about my parents like that! They’re...I know they can come off as...they mean well,” she finished, defensively, if weakly. Draco wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince them or herself of that, but going by the way Pansy’s mouth had set into a thin line he knew it wasn’t winning her over. “Can we just...why are we even talking about our families? I thought you wanted to vent about Weasley and his friends, Pans? Isn’t that the whole point of these meetings?!”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Wow, way to make it sound like we’re not friends, Daph.”

“You know what I _meant_.“

“I’m so glad we all agreed to do this,” he sighed.

Things hadn’t improved after that first weekend.

It started off softly, to give them all a false sense of security, as the professors with mixed classes were obviously going through student rosters and determining who wouldn’t be complete disasters when put together. Daphne scowled at him after her first Ancient Runes class, as if her getting paired with Granger was personally his fault.

Arithmancy was such a Ravenclaw dominated class that the remaining Gryffindors and Slytherins couldn’t be broken into neat little pairs, thank Salazar. It was three Slytherins -himself, Daphne and Theo- to two Gryffindors -Granger and a random girl who Draco thought might be named Dunbar or something - so they were left alone for right now. That would end up not lasting as Vector eventually just shrugged by the second class and put them all in one group. Padma Patil was added to the group to even things out; he supposed she was picked because having a twin sister in Gryffindor made her an honorary one.

However, the worst two ended up being Potions and Care of Magical Creatures. The latter he’d had no hopes for, but potions was especially disappointing as it was his favorite class. Potions had been the first class to find him paired with one of the lions, and of course it ended up being Granger. They both remembered their fight and had spent the lesson in near silence, which he thought was an amazing achievement given how much of a know-it-all she was.

The next Care of Magical Creatures class had them being split up as part of a project: the groups would have to alternate nights to take care of the blast-ended skrewts. “I will not,” he protested. “I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks.”

“Yeh’ll do wha’ yer told,” Hagrid growled, “or I’ll be takin’ a leaf outta Professor Moody’s book. . . . I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy.”

All the Gryffindors laughed and he merely stared ahead as if he couldn’t hear any of them; hypocrites the lot of them, he knew full well none of them could stand these abominations either. He was a little satisfied when the oaf started reading off the new teams and a huge dent was put into the Gryffindor cheeriness. Granger to his relief was paired with Pansy, and he smirked at the annoyed expression on her face.

And then he got paired with Potter.

In a rare moment of solidarity, both of them grimaced at the exact same time.

* * *

The Parkinson family was not quite as old as the Malfoy one but they were up there. They weren’t quite as rich as families such as the Greengrasses or the Zabini’s, but, again, they were up there in terms of gold. Pansy was the heir to the name and fortune and everything else that was a part of it; she was the one who would be in charge of the properties she’d inherit, the investments, etc. Thus there were expectations she would have to follow.

She had to be friends with the right people and an enemy to the wrong ones. She could never show weakness or fear or doubt in front of other people, except the few she trusted. (And maybe not even then.) She had to get good grades and if she decided she really wanted some kind of career it could only be within two areas: business or Ministry. (If she had a not so secret love of art and drawing, well that was what hobbies were for.) Not getting married wasn’t an option for her; she would have to get married, keep her surname for at least one of her children to carry on, and it would have to be to a wizard within her family’s social circles. So even if she had sustained enough brain damage to actually like Weasley, there was no way she could have been with him, even with the soulmate bond, not if she wanted to remain on her family tree.

She had been about five when her father had fully explained to her what the various burn marks on the tapestry had been. “Think of it like the trees in your mummy’s garden, love. You have to prune the damaged limbs to make sure they keep growing nice and strong. Families are like that too.” All the burn marks had a story behind them, but a common one had been choosing to marry someone unwise. Family was the most important thing in their lives and their families would always be there for them unless they betrayed them.

In the same way, friends, boyfriends, acquaintances were to be treasured and defended unless they turned on you or the trouble they brought with them outweighed the good they did for you.

(“It was smart of you to get so close with the older Greengrass girl,” her dad had said, pausing to ruffle her hair before taking a seat at the dining room table with her and mum. Pansy blinked and looked up from her plate, uncertain of how to respond to that. Dad chuckled lowly and continued, “Look at it this way: she wasn’t really hitting it off with the other kids, and she has that speech impediment, and then you come along and stick with her. Keep it up and that girl will do anything for you.”

Pansy was frowning by the end. He made it sound like she was just using her friend. “I _like_ Daphne,” she said, with a lot of finality for a (near) seven year old. The stammer was something she’d quickly gotten used to, and it happened less when they were playing together. And Daphne was trying hard to get rid of it, so it wasn't like it was even going to be a problem soon.

“No, don’t misunderstand, sweetie,” mum interrupted gently. “Daphne is a lovely girl and we’re happy you’ve made such a nice friend. What your daddy is trying to say is that she used to be lonely and lonely children often turn out to be very loyal when they finally make a friend.”

Pansy hadn’t been sure that sounded better than what her dad had said, but her mum had sounded nicer while she was talking at least.)

She loved her parents, and she knew they loved her, but she also knew they could be arseholes (especially her dad) and that telling them that Weasley was her soulmate wouldn’t go well. They would just put more pressure on her to find someone more suitable and she didn’t need a lecture from her dad that girls and boys who got too close to blood traitors and mudbloods got blasted off their family trees. It was also the reason that her parents weren’t learning anything about the school's brilliant idea to force Slytherin and Gryffindor together from her.

Weasel and Granger were huge enough pains in the arse to deal with already, she wasn’t adding more.

“I told you not to get too close,” said Granger in an annoyed yet self-satisfied sounding tone. Pansy cursed as she rolled up her right sleeve and to inspect the light burn, blinking against tears of pain. She was going to have to use the salve she’d had to buy once she got back to her room. The damn skrewts were going to be the death of her -or Granger if she kept getting on Pansy’s last nerve- and she cursed herself for signing up for Care of Magical Creatures at the end of second year.

(Why couldn’t they ever study unicorns? Unicorns couldn’t burn, sting and bite you all at the same time.)

“Shut up, Granger,” she practically growled as she pulled her sleeve back down. The only consolation was that she knew Weasley had probably felt that too and it only served him right after she had to feel getting bitten by one of these sins against nature the other day thanks to him.

She swung her bag over her shoulder and stormed off towards the castle ignoring Granger’s shrieking about having to take notes on these things. Merlin’s beard, how was it possible to be such a huge swot all the time. As far as Pansy was concerned, she didn’t give a shite about these things; they were always attacking each other, never ate any sort of food anyone threw into their enclosure, and Pansy was convinced they were just sustaining themselves out of pure hatred towards all life at this point.

If working with Granger was bad, then having to partner with Weasley in potions was slow torture. They had to stand uncomfortably close to each other, next to a swelteringly hot cauldron, and she mentally swore when she caught herself looking at his forearms after he’d rolled up his sleeves. _Get it together, Pansy._

“Can you watch what you’re doing?” she hissed, just dodging out of the way before he could accidentally elbow her in the ribs. He was too busy looking between Daphne and Potter, and Draco and Granger to pay attention to her; he was trying to be subtle about it - and failing because when could a Gryffindor ever be subtle about anything - and he was biting his bottom lip. He looked as if he was ready to jump in at any moment to rescue them the second something went wrong. It was a protectiveness she would have found endearing from any of the Slytherin boys, but was just annoying as all hell coming from him. Her right hand clenched as he looked back over at Granger, the bond feeling like it was tightening around her.

“What do you think Draco and Daphne can even do in the middle of class? Push Granger or Potter face first into a cauldron?” Her words were coming out clipped and harsh, but she was proud of herself for keeping her voice to a whisper at the same time.

Weasel wasn’t so good at that. “I’m not putting anything past the three of you. I don’t trust-“

“Mr. Weasley,” Professor Snape broke in, voice frosty. “You are distracting Miss Parkinson; ten points from Gryffindor.”

Weasley glowered at her once the professor’s back was turned and she grinned at him from across the cauldron.

* * *

“I don’t get what he wants,” Daphne complained to the other two, before taking another bite of vanilla and fudge ice cream. “He rejects me so I ignore him and he starts picking at me. Does he want me to scream at him?”

She had no idea why.

Daphne hated yelling at people. Her parents screaming matches were still something she remembered vividly. It used to take so little to really set them off and then they could be yelling at each other until mother started sounding hoarse and father looked like his skull was about to explode. It didn’t happen so much anymore, considering they liked to spend as little time alone together as possible, but it wasn’t as if she never returned home from Hogwarts to hear them arguing as soon as she walked through the front door either.

Her father would then storm off and her mother would lock herself into a room and cry. Daphne then had to distract Astoria when they were little to stop her sister from crying or hiding. The arguing stopped happening as much but her father still spent more time outside of the house and her mother was often… _unwell_. She and Tori were left to do their own thing most of the time, though they still had JoJo (their house elf) to watch them, though things had started getting better. Father was home more and their mother was more present, even if she seemed to pay a little more attention to Astoria than her.

Screaming just reminded her of what they used to be like. It also made her feel out of control. Her stutter used to get worse the more upset she got and she could still feel the sheer anxiety of knowing what she needed to say but not being able to get the words out right. Consonants were a bitch, especially ‘b’, ‘p’, ‘w’, and the hard ‘g’. “Sometimes it’s better to just not say anything at all,” her father had brushed her off on a particularly hard moment.

Daphne didn’t usually find self-control this hard, but Potter just found a way under her skin. She didn’t know if it was a soulmate thing or a Potter thing, but she hated it. _“Do you know what people outside of Slytherin call you? The Ice Queen.”_

(She was over halfway into her first year when she even found out about that name. Daphne had been playing cards with her dorm mates on the floor of the room when Millicent brought it up. She startled, eyes widening as she looked at them over her cards. “People call me what?!”

Millicent looked apologetic, Tracey frowned, and Pansy shrugged. “I thought you knew,” said Tracey, “but I guess it’s not really something people would call you to your face.”

“I’m guessing it’s because you never really talk to anyone outside of our house,” commented Millie.

Daphne was frowning now. “But Blaise and Theo don’t talk to anyone either! No one calls them anything.”

“Probably because they’re _boys_ ,” Pansy said, nose wrinkling in disdain.

“It could be worse,” said Millie, frowning herself now. “I’m just the one who likes cats to everyone outside of Slytherin.”

Tracey cut in: “At least people remember who you three are! No one in the other houses even knows my name, only the professors.” Her brown eyes suddenly widened. “Except for Binns.”

Pansy snorted, “Binns doesn’t remember anyone’s name, Trace, it’s not just you.”

Her mood was getting worse by the second. It’s not fair, she wanted to say but complaining wasn’t going to change anything. “You know what, fine! Let them call me whatever they want, I don’t care anymore.”

“That’s the spirit,” drawled Pansy.)

Daphne didn’t know why her mind kept going back to that comment from him but she was trying to push it away as much as possible. Even worse, he had started humming the song she’d sent him through the bond in a moment of weakness that she still hadn’t been able to admit to Draco or Pansy. She still didn’t know why she sent him that song -the song her mother had written and named for Astoria before her sister was born- other than the fact that she knew it used to help Tori when she was having trouble sleeping. Daphne didn’t even know why she cared enough to, other than the waves of grief and anger were making it impossible for her to sleep, but she was weak and sent him the damn music.

She didn’t know what she expected that first class she saw him in after. An explanation or denial, maybe a thank you? But he ignored it, she followed his lead, and now he was annoying her by humming the song at random points over the last few weeks. What was he getting out of this? Daphne was too proud to admit that he was bothering her so she just clenched her teeth whenever she heard him.

Distraction ended up coming in the form of her little sister dropping down into the seat next to her at breakfast. “I’m going to kill her, Daph,” she grumbled, slamming a stuffed animal down on the table.

A peacock to be precise.

It was too early in the morning for this.

“Good morning to you too, sis,” she sighed, before taking a sip of tea. Astoria rolled her eyes before swiping a piece of bacon from her plate; Daphne quickly put an arm around her plate protectively. “Get your own breakfast. And who do you want to kill?”

“Romilda Vane.” Astoria started putting food on her own plate as Daphne waited for her to continue. “She’s that Gryffindor in my year, I told you about. My nemesis.”

Daphne could feel the strain of not rolling her eyes at that. She didn’t know what it was with Astoria, Draco and Pansy, but it was entirely possible to get through Hogwarts without having a hated rival. The real surprise in this case was that her sister wasn’t on the same level of grudge-holding as the other two; so this was entirely unexpected. “What did she do now?”

Astoria gestured at the stuffed animal, a dark expression on her face. “Someone told her what my boggart was and I woke up to this. She’s telling everyone too.”

Blaise had been sitting across from her when Astoria had rudely interrupted breakfast and had been following their conversation in amusement. “Wait, your boggart is a peacock?” He asked, chuckling lowly. “Like the ones at Draco’s-“

“Exactly,” said Daphne. At the same time, Astoria defensively said, “They are vicious birds, Blaise.” They’d gotten dragged along by their parents to a party at Malfoy Manor when Astoria had been five; at some point during the night, Astoria ended up getting chased around by one of the manor’s peacocks. This had somehow ended up being Daphne’s fault for not keeping enough of an eye on her sister.

Still, it didn’t matter how ridiculous Tori’s phobia was, she wasn’t going to let some kid get away with mocking her for it. She had to wait for the right moment when none of the staff was around -at least three Slytherin students had gotten detention for picking fights with Gryffindors this week alone - and she got a quick thirty second window on the way to her Anicent Runes class that afternoon. “Diffindo,” she cast quietly, as Romilda was holding her bag out in front of her. It suddenly tore open and fell out on top of her, including several different colored bottles of ink that broke and were now covering the entire front of her robes.

Daphne’s wand disappeared back up her sleeve as she shouldered past the swearing second-year. “This is why you don’t cheap out with handbags,” she said as she walked past, jabbing Romilda with her shoulder. Now that was done with that, she was thinking ahead to her class when her bloody soulmate decided he just needed to chime in.

Potter fell into step next to her and hissed, “Really, a second year? Can’t you just pick on people your own size, Greengrass?” Yeah, this was exactly what she needed right now: outrage from golden boy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Potter,” she replied, sounding bored. “But if these delusions of yours persist you should really talk to Madame Pomfrey.”

His pretty green eyes were flashing in anger behind his glasses. “Do you have any feelings beyond generally feeling like everyone else is beneath you?”

She could tell him about Astoria and this girl’s relationship, but fuck it she didn’t feel like defending herself to him. “No.”

Scowling, he asked, “Are you a robot? I’m seriously asking.”

Daphne actually stopped walking, mouth twisting into a puzzled frown. “What’s a robot?” She was actually genuinely curious; she realized he was insulting her in some way, but this wasn’t a word she’d heard before. She’d turned her body towards him, but still keeping a few inches away from him, and was waiting for an answer. He blinked, taken aback by her reaction, and stared at her for a few seconds before striding away from her. “Potter, wait! What’s a robot?” She scowled as he kept walking away from her, but she knew there was one person who wouldn't be able to stop themselves from explaining this to her. Daphne went to the Ancient Runes classroom and headed straight over to her new study partner.

“Granger, what’s a robot?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not trying to whitewash any of the characters, particularly Draco and Pansy, but I am trying to show that there are a) different sides to their personalities (like when they are around people they like) and b) what shaped their worldviews. Slytherin has major problems, namely the bigotry towards muggleborns and muggles more than a few of them have; however, while they are more flawed, that doesn't mean that they are always wrong about everything or that the other houses don't have their own flaws or assholes. 
> 
> I also hope I'm not coming across as bashing Harry, Ron or Hermione (or related characters, like the Weasleys and Hagrid). At the same time, someone like Pansy isn't going to be too fond of them right now. 
> 
> On a lighter note, there is no deeper meaning behind Romilda Vane being Astoria's Sitcom Arch-Nemesis. I just thought it would be funny since Romilda is the one who tried to sneak Harry a love potion in Half-Blood Prince and Astoria is the sister of Harry's soulmate in this fic.


	7. September Didn't End Soon Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ginny have a conversation about soulmates, Ron has to spend time with Blaise Zabini, and Harry fails an insight check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Harry Potter. All characters belong to JK Rowling. Any quoted text is from Goblet of Fire.

“Thank you so much for that, Harry,” Hermione complained as she sat down across from her friends at the Gryffindor table. Harry blinked behind his glasses, before realizing what she had to be referring to, and smiled sheepishly at her.

“It just slipped out. I didn’t think she’d care that much.”

Ron looked between them before asking, “What are you both talking about?”

Hermione started putting food on her plate as they spoke. “Harry” - that earned another sheepish smile - “called Greengrass a robot. I then had to spend most of Ancient Runes explaining this to her.” Because the Slytherin would not let it go. She lost valuable study time and/or SPEW organizing time and/or research into soulmates time. The only reason she even gave in at the time was because the professor had them working in pairs on translation and they finished quickly. (She would never admit it out loud, but the work in Ancient Runes was actually going more efficiently with her new study partner. As generally frustrating as Greengrass was as a person, she at least knew what she was doing with runes.)

(On the other end of things, Parkinson was still the worst Care of Magical Creatures partner.)

Hermione frowned, “I’m not sure how much she really got it, and I had to promise to show her a book about it, but she at least has a general idea of how you insulted her now, Harry.”

(Greengrass had followed her explanation with a surprising amount of patience and interest; Hermione was more used to people just zoning out on her when she really started in on a subject (unrelated to dangerous situations of course), and this nice change of pace had encouraged her on. They were both leaning forward over their desks, pretending to be going through the textbook or still working on their finished assignment, and Hermione had to whisper the entire thing.

“So it’s like enchanting something like a doll to do things?” she asked, voice thoughtful. “He was comparing me to a doll?” Greengrass’ usual bored, almost haughty expression was gone and she looked more curious than anything.

Hermione fully expected that to end as she started saying something. “When muggles call someone a robot, they usually mean the person is cold or emotionless. That they do things like going to school or work not because they’re interested, but just because they’re going through the motions.”

Greengrass surprised her by chuckling, though muffled by her hand to keep from getting the professor’s attention. “I guess that’s not too different from what people here already call me.” Did she sound disappointed by that or was Hermione just imagining it? “Do you have a book about these robots or a picture?”)

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said, more than a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “She wasn’t going to let it go, Harry. Someone was going to tell her eventually.”

“It didn’t have to be you.”

Ron interrupted the, waving a spoon in the air between their faces to get their attention. “Oi, you two can fight later. I have an important question.” He glanced between them again and asked, “So are either of you going to tell me what a robot is?”

“Not again,” Hermione groaned.

That was a feeling she was going to have more than once as the weeks went on and September changed to October. And no, not everything irritating in her life was due to Malfoy and friends; they were already full of themselves as things were, she wasn’t going to unknowingly feed into their egos by making them seem more important than they were. Much of it was due to her making no headway into either SPEW or her research.

She took time out of her day, every day, to campaign and it was a failure every time. There was an entire race of beings who were being enslaved by wizards and seemingly no one cared, not even her two best friends. They paid for the badges, sure, but she never saw either of the two wearing them, and neither of them ever approached any of the other students about membership or donations. “They’re happy, Hermione,” Ron argued, while Harry muttered an excuse and left as she started snapping back.

(On one particularly frustrating day of refusals, Malfoy had leaned over and whispered into her ear, “I told you so.” He made no actual physics contact with her, but the bond pressed between them. He smirked and stepped back as she sent him her most frosty glare, but it just made the smirk on his face widen.

For an irrational moment, she wondered if she should ask Greengrass for tips on glaring, but that was only five seconds of insanity. Breathing out slowly, she responded, “It’s only been a month.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure more weeks of berating people is going to just win them over. The House-Elves will be throwing you a parade in no time.”

Why did she even bother to argue? Draco Malfoy and empathy didn’t exactly go together. Even beyond their most recent fight -where he showed he couldn’t even stomach genuine concern from someone like her - did he ever have a moment of empathy? The way he went after her friends, Buckbeak, and his own family’s treatment of their former house-elf, this was just a pattern of behavior at this point. Shaking her head, she copied his earlier actions, ignoring the way the bond was thrumming as she did, and said, “We’re not all you, Malfoy. I don’t need validation from other people to accomplish things.”)

Then there was the soulmate research. She had systematically been checking out every book on the subject in the library, including one that was essentially just traditional courtship rituals wizardkind had developed around soulmate bonds. Interesting, but completely unhelpful to her actual purpose. Unfortunately, she was starting to think she was going to have to change what that purpose actually was.

Malfoy had mocked her for it on the train, but part of her had been hoping that there was something she could find that would break this. Book after book had supported the fact that it was impossible to break a bond through anything other than one half of the pair dying. The good part was that someone couldn’t be forced into accepting the other person or to be with them. There were also ways to learn how to control some effects of the bond -namely the mental and emotional as there seemed there was nothing to do about the physical- so she was coming around to the idea that it was the best any of them could do.

She rubbed her eyes as she looked up from her book; Ginny was sharing a table in the common room with her, doing homework rather than research, but keeping Hermione company all the same. “So you can't force someone to be with their soulmate. It also says you can never be as happy as you could otherwise, but how do you even measure that anyway?” She hesitated as Ginny glanced up from her work, “I know you’re trying to get over him, but there might be some hope.”

Ginny just sighed deeply and she dropped her quill as she focused on her friend. “I know but...Look, I’ve grown up around soulmates and my parents are so happy together. Obviously I know things can get complicated or go wrong, but I kind of want to hold out to see what happens with whoever my soulmate ends up being.”

She ran a hand through her red hair. “And...I don’t want Harry to settle for me because he doesn’t like the girl the universe bonded him to.”

Hermione didn’t point out the fact that it wouldn’t be settling if Ginny and Harry got together over time and getting closer as friends, but the tiredness in her voice stopped her. She nodded and was going to go back to her book, when she noticed Ginny suddenly fidget. “Do you think I’m being naive for still hoping whoever’s name I get ends up being the love of my life?”

Hermione paused, considering her choice of words, before saying, “Having hope isn’t the same thing as being naive.”

* * *

Ron had once thought that the title of Most Annoying Slytherin would have been a toss-up between Malfoy or Parkinson, but not now. No, there was a new contender for that title and his name was Blaise Zabini: the bloke who was supposed to be helping him handle the skrewts. 

The key phrase being: supposed to. 

He cursed and jumped back as he just barely managed to avoid the stinger that came swinging at him. Behind him and to his left, he heard the distinct sound of snickering and he felt his temper start to rise. When he turned around to see Zabini jotting something down into a book and smirking at him, he knew he had had enough. “Are you just going to stand there all night or are you going to help anytime in the next bloody decade?!”

The bloke had the nerve to arch a damn eyebrow at him. Why did every single bloody Slytherin have to do that? Did they all practice in their common room together, giving each other pointers about how to be as irritating as possible?

“Weasley, I am helping,” he said, slowly and deliberately, like he was talking to a small child. “I am taking notes on the skrewts as you interact with them. It’s a very important job.” Every single word had been practically dripping in condescension. “To be honest, I think it’s excellent teamwork on our parts.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he managed to say through gritted teeth.

“I thought it went without saying. Or is Gryffindor courage not all it’s cracked up to be?” He went back to scribbling something down as Ron told himself to just ignore the prat. “This might just be our most inspired work yet. Listen to this. 8PM: Weasley clumsily tries to feed skrewt and skrewt attempts to skewer him. Skrewts are getting good exercise tonight.”

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d taken a step towards Zabini but came to his senses as he heard Fang starting to bark from inside Hagrid’s hut. If he did anything too stupid, Hagrid would come running out to break them up and then he would given Ron a whole lecture about not letting a snob like Zabini get to him and Ron would then feel about three feet tall. Hagrid was counting on all of them to keep themselves from killing each other long enough to help keep these (horrific) creatures alive. Ron muttered a string of curses under his breath instead and grabbed another handful of something gross enough looking that he didn’t want to speculate what it had come from.

Alright, it was time for attempt thirty.

He reached down to start tossing the food at them, as the damn things ignored it (did they ever eat?) and he started to pull back to grab more when one launched itself at him out of nowhere. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid it and he yelled as he felt it biting his arm. He didn’t remember the next few seconds other than someone grabbing his robes from behind and trying to yank him back as the pain got to him...and he felt the sudden shocked pain of someone else on top of his own. Stupid emotional bond.

The next thing he did remember was his arse hitting the ground and hearing muffled cursing in Italian. “Don’t get so close to them! How difficult is that?” questioned an annoyed, male voice. Ron blinked through the tears of pain in his eyes to watch Zabini walk back towards the castle. Ignoring him, Ron rolled up his sleeve and sighed in relief to see that it was bloody, but not as deep as he thought it’d be.

He grabbed for his bag and pulled out the bandages Hermione had insisted they all carry with them on the nights they had to interact with the skrewts. Slowly, clumsily, he wrapped his arm up and pushed himself to his feet. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he headed back towards the castle and nearly tripped as the sudden image of a girl’s hand making a hand gesture his mum would have yelled at him for popped up suddenly in his head and then vanished in seconds. He just managed to catch himself from falling, brain scrambling to get what happened, and then-

Oh.

Parkinson had just used their soulmate bond to flip him off from long distance. He couldn’t help the sound that escaped his mouth: something halfway between a groan and a laugh. The first image his mum had ever sent his dad was of a street in muggle London she and her friends once convinced themselves to venture into. (Even back then, she knew he’d been a nutter for muggle things.) And this was what he got from his soulmate. Well, shite.

Ron hadn’t thought to try this before, hadn’t even felt like wanting to, but he closed his eyes and concentrated. He imagined a sentence in his head ( _I didn’t think pureblood princesses like you even knew what that meant_ ) and then imagined he was pushing it towards the opening of a tunnel. He opened his eyes, unsure if that had even worked, until he heard her voice as clearly as if she was standing right next to him:

_Fuck off, Weasel._

_After you, Parkinson._

And that was it for now, but he knew she wasn’t going to stay quiet forever. He tried to put it out of his mind as he entered the castle and met his mates for dinner. His arm was stiff and he didn’t feel much like talking; the most he managed was telling Hermione his arm looked worse than it was and not to worry. After dinner, he and Harry tried to get their predictions for divination in, though he was having trouble thinking of suggestions.

Instead, he found himself looking around the common room and then stopped as he noticed Fred and George sitting by themselves in a corner. Their heads were bent over some parchment and they were muttering to each other. George was clearly frowning, and then Fred was staring him down. Ron motioned for Harry to look over too and he knew he was right to think something was off when his best mate started frowning at them.

Fred had his back to them, but George was facing their direction and his eyes narrowed as he noticed they were being watched. He said something to Fred and then the two were heading towards their dorm, neither of them turning to look at him or Harry.

“They’re definitely up to something,” he said.

“You think it has to do with the tournament? They could be thinking up how to trick their way in?”

“If they are, I hope they tell us.” Ron leaned back into his chair, trying to get comfortable, but there was something bothering him still. The twins weren’t acting like they did when they were up to something. Something about it seemed a lot more serious than usual, but he tried to ignore that feeling.

It wasn’t like Fred and George would do anything too awful.

* * *

Harry had expected that Greengrass was going to be angry at him after Hermione had explained what he had called her. When he got to their next potions class and found her already sitting at their spot and only got that same bored look, he was strangely disappointed. 

(Maybe he should have been relieved. There had been a moment - just a moment - after he’d called her a robot and she had just stopped and asked him what a robot was. She’d looked at him, actually curious, and didn’t seem to care that he’d insulted her: finding out what he meant had been more important. 

Just for that one moment, he actually thought she looked…no, he wasn’t going to finish that sentence.) 

She only spared him a glance as he sat down and was focusing on her notes instead. Compared to how his friends were dealing with Malfoy and Parkinson bothering them, he knew he should have been relieved that she seemed fine with just freezing him out. He knew she was capable of some real pettiness -he saw her picking on a second year for no reason- and his life was full of enough problems that he knew he shouldn’t be adding more to it. And yet, he still felt the inexplicable urge to poke at her. It must have been the bond messing with his head and trying to force him into proximity with him. 

“I know Hermione told you what a robot was,” he finally said. 

“Mhhm,” she hummed, absentmindedly. 

He just stared at her. “That’s all you’re going to say?” He had no idea why he was even surprised; there was a reason he’d called her that in the first place. 

Finally, she looked up at him, but her expression was as unimpressed as always. “What do you even want me to say? That I’m not a robot? Fine.” There was more of a bite in her tone as she said, “I am not a robot.” 

He shook his head at her. It was times like this that made him honestly wonder if he’d imagined her looking angry before or curious. “I don’t know. If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck.” Was that too much of a muggle expression for her or was it something wizards would say as well? 

Her voice was very calm when she looked him in the eye and said, “Va te faire enculer.” 

Harry blinked. “Was that...French?” He had no idea what she’d actually said, but he knew it wasn’t good. 

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards into a smirk. “You called me a muggle word I wouldn’t understand. I’ll use a language you don’t understand when I feel like it. You’re the one who opened this door, Potter.” 

So that had happened. 

As the first week of October went by, Harry was starting to lose track of who he was more annoyed with: Greengrass or Malfoy. (He’d count Parkinson but she was more of a guest star when it came to irritating him.) He had to finally admit it was Malfoy he disliked just a bit more, though she was nearly tied with him, during one of the nights they had to try and get the skrewts to eat for once. 

Harry had already been resenting the fact that he and Malfoy had been paired together for this. Hagrid had apologized to him and had explained that he put them together because he thought Harry was the one who could handle Malfoy best in the class. That didn’t stop Hagrid from sitting outside on his porch when it was his and Malfoy’s turn with the skrewts and watching them the entire time they were there. 

(To be fair to Hagrid though, this probably had something to do with the last time Dean and Crabbe had been left alone during this assignment: no one was really sure what caused it, but there was some sort of fight, and Dean had ended up hanging off Crabbe’s back, trying to put him in a chokehold as Crabbe tried to buck him off.) 

Malfoy had scanned him up and down before chuckling, “Not wearing a SPEW badge, Potter? Granger must be so disappointed in you.” He knew for a fact that Malfoy didn’t care about the house-elves or Hermione and this was just a way for him to rile Harry up. 

Harry still fell for it though. “Don’t talk about her.” 

The other boy smirked at that. “Why not? She’s my soulmate and I will talk about her however I-” 

“Shut up. You and Hermione being bonded was a mistake and she’s the one suffering for it.” 

Malfoy’s grey eyes flashed in anger. “You would know all about causing suffering wouldn’t you, Potter? Or are you actually going to try and be polite to Daphne for a change?” 

Harry grit his teeth. “Shove off, Malfoy. We both know that Greengrass doesn’t have feelings to hurt. Unlike Hermione-”

“How would you even know that?” demanded Malfoy, cutting him off. “Is that something you picked up through your five conversations with her? Or can you just not handle the fact that you act as badly as-” 

“Less talkin’ now,” interrupted Hagrid. That had probably been a good thing as he and Malfoy had been slowly gearing up into a fight. They just worked in silence after that, save for once of them cursing everytime one of the skrewts almost got them. 

He was still in a bit of a mood thanks to Malfoy the next day, though he got better as the day went on. He’d gotten out of his last class and was walking down the corridor lost in thought. Ron had to ask Fred and George something and Hermione had to start work on some project for Ancient Runes so he was by himself. Without thinking, he started humming that song again, but he was interrupted. 

“How do you know that song?” 

Harry had jumped; he’d been lost enough in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed someone else nearby. He looked over to see a first or second year girl in Ravenclaw colors; her brown hair was tied back in a complicated looking braid and her blue eyes were staring straight at him. He was sure he’d never spoken to this girl before but she looked so familiar, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on it as to why. “I’m sorry?” 

She rolled her eyes at him -that feeling of familiarity intensified- before whistling the same song. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards; she was the only person so far who recognized it. “What’s it called?” he asked. 

At the same time, she asked again, “How do you know it?” She hesitated, biting her bottom lip, and didn’t seem to want to answer right away. Harry was starting to get very confused about what the big deal was: why did almost no one expect one person know this song and why was she acting so weird about it. She must have realized, he was waiting for her to answer first because she sighed, “Astoria. It’s called Astoria. Did you overhear her playing it? I can’t imagine she’d play it for you willingly. No offense.” 

Harry blinked. “Her? Who’re you talking about?” The girl looked even more confused by this question than she had a minute ago. “I thought I must have heard it on the radio or something.” 

“Impossible.” The sheer confidence in her voice killed any questions he could counter that with. 

He just shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out since it popped into my head a while ago.” 

She was frowning now, head tilted to one side. She was looking at him like he was some sort of puzzle to solve and he shifted his weight from his left foot to the right foot under the attention. “It just...popped into your head? Out of nowhere?” 

“That’s what I just said,” he answered, a little annoyance creeping into his voice now. 

Apparently, she didn’t even notice as her eyes suddenly widened. “No way,” she breathed out. Blue eyes were now practically shining from excitement and before he could ask, she was adjusting her bag on her shoulder and running past him. “Sorry! I need to talk to someone!” 

“Young people today are so energetic,” commented an elderly man from one of the many portraits at Hogwarts. 

Harry just stood there for a few seconds after she disappeared around a corner trying to figure out what had just happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPEW is one of those areas of canon, I've been kind of cautious of getting into. Hermione is objectively right, her goals are good, and she has good intentions...but her execution is poor, most likely because she's a teenager. I'm trying to handle this as sensitively as possible while also having to keep to the canon that most of the other characters are either just used to house-elves as a concept (and blind to any problems) or just don't care about what Hermione is doing. 
> 
> On a lighter note, all three Slytherins have now projected thoughts to their soulmates, though Draco's was less intentional and more the result of panic. Ron is the first of the Gryffindors to do so. 
> 
> Lastly, Daphne and knowing French: her mother is from France and still has family there that they're in some degree of contact with. I just imagined that she and Astoria would have been taught the language pre-Hogwarts. (Draco might also have been taught it just because the Malfoy family does have French roots.)


	8. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco acts like a huge prick, Pansy is selfish, and Astoria fails a spot check.
> 
> Warning for mentioned child abuse (not of the main three in this chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to JK Rowling. Daphne’s chant is from IT by Stephen King.
> 
> Italics in Daphne and Astoria’s conversation to show the parts they’re speaking in French.

If Draco had been hoping that October was going to suck less than September, he’d been sadly mistaken.

“Quit it,” he hissed at Daphne, feeling the bruise forming from where her shoe had (viciously) kicked him in the leg. Theo and Granger (damn her, as if she wasn’t the reason for this) glanced up at them to see Draco glaring daggers at Daphne and Daphne looking innocently back at him. As if any of the Slytnerins in their year were ever innocent.

She merely wrote down on her parchment and angled it so only he could read it: _You were losing your temper with her. None of us want to deal with you flipping out and getting our entire house in trouble… again. _

She underlined the word ‘again’.

Three times.

He thought that was a completely unnecessary number of times. One would have sufficed; he wasn’t Tracey Davis, who practically needed someone to follow her around with a sign saying ‘No’, or Crabbe and Goyle, who were both two thick to understand simple commands. (Yes, he was still bitter that Crabbe seemed to be blaming the current Gryffindor-Slytherin disaster completely on him. As if he and Greg had been elsewhere, minding their own business, when he’d tried to hex Potter.)

Draco’s glare only intensified, but Daphne just shot him a deceptively pleasant smile. It was the sort of smile their parents all taught them to use for their parties, charities and events, the sort of smile that said, ‘I may be bored out of my mind, but if I let that slip my parents are going to chew me out’. Except today it was a smile that clearly said, ‘Play nice with Granger and the other Gryffindor or I will kick the bloody shite out of you’. Well, see if he ever defended her to Potter again. (Not that she’d been grateful for that; she seemed more annoyed that Potter now knew that Draco had known about their soulmate mark.

Alright, Draco could understand that. If he’d had Potter’s name, he’d keep that crap to himself as well.)

Draco had just gritted his teeth at Daphne who went back to their arithmancy work, secure in the knowledge that her point had been made. Even still he would end up getting kicked five times in the next few weeks. It was infuriating; arithmancy was not his favorite class, his two favorites were actually Potions and DADA, but he was normally very good at it except now he couldn’t concentrate. There was the soulmate bond tying him to bloody Granger; he’d thought it’d get easier to ignore since they had three bloody classes together, but it wasn’t. It was constantly there, the need to be near her, the crackling in the air when they were close by, even when he was in the dungeons he could feel it rattling in his teeth sometimes. There were times he nearly gave in and touched her in Potions, under the guise of handing her an ingredient, but he always saved himself at the last minute.

The very second he actually touched her now that the bond was firmly in place between them, everything would get so much worse. Draco almost couldn’t believe that was possible but it’s what he’d been taught previously about the bond and he now had Pansy as proof.

(Pansy, like all of them, had many lessons in etiquette and deportment as a child. She knew how to sit perfectly still at meals, so it was a little out of the usual to see her openly drumming her fingers against the table or tapping her foot on the floor.

Draco followed her glare when she lifted her head and saw it go right towards Weasel; the redhead was laughing at something Potter said, one arm slung over Granger’s shoulder and Draco felt the soulmate bond wrap around him painfully. Grimacing, he glanced back at Pansy, who was now gripping her fork so tight, that he was actually concerned it was hurting her hand.

“Don’t,” she’d mouthed at him, but she told him and Daphne later when they were on their own. “Whatever you do, don’t touch them. I thought my mum was exaggerating when she said touching made that pushing thing the bond does stronger, but I think she was understating it.”)

But it was even worse in classes like Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures because he shared them with Theo as well. Theo Nott was a wizard of his word and when he said he could no longer be Draco’s friend, he meant it. He thought he had taken it well, and had thought he’d been downright understanding regarding the circumstances, but he’d be lying if there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t want to curse Theo out for abandoning him. Almost ten years of friendship thrown out because he got that mudblood’s name on his face. But then, he remembered what Theodore Nott Snr was like and the remorse he wasn’t used to feeling would come flooding in.

(“How’d you get that?” Draco had stared wide eyed when the left sleeve on his friend’s robes rolled up to reveal a large, angry looking welt. He’d been six and relatively sheltered and the idea of a parent doing this to their kid was about to rattle his brain.

“My dad just has a temper. I shouldn’t have made him angry.” That was all Theo would say on the subject, but Draco became aware of how often Theo would shrink back from someone about to touch him or how often he’d favor one arm or leg.)

The loss of that friendship had been weighing on him more that school went on, and it was all Granger’s fault. (The knowledge that she hated being bonded to him as much as he did her was lost on him at that point. As was the knowledge that no one picked their soulmate, it was decided for them by some pushy magic that believed it knew what was best for people or just chose at random.)

He’d been annoyed in the library one day, in the middle of the month, and had seen Theo sitting in the corner alone. Theo sitting alone in the library was not an uncommon sight but in their first three years Theo might have waved at Draco at least. Now, his former friend was pointedly ignoring him and he was feeling that rejection. The fact that he had to then run into Granger in the Transfiguration section of the library and watch her take down the exact book he needed had only made it worse.

“Out of every book in this library, that’s the one you need?” He was whinging, but fuck it, he didn’t care. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, Malfoy, that’s how a library works,” she had snapped back, eyes flashing. “You select a book, you take it from the shelf, and then you read it. If you need it, you’ll just have to wait until I’m done...unless of course, I decide to check it out.” She was being condescending to him and he knew she was enjoying it too; she practically wore her emotions on her sleeve sometimes, the same way her friends, the Brainless Wonders, did.

He didn’t know why but that just pissed him off more. “No, thanks. I’d rather chew my own hand off than touch a book a filthy mudblood like you has gotten her germs on.”

There were tears in her eyes and he felt a pang of sadness that wasn’t his own, but he felt a whole lot of anger that wasn’t his much more. She narrowed her eyes at him, drew herself up to her full height and-

“Oh, laddie, laddie, laddie. If you missed having extra time with me that much, you could have just told me rather than going out of your way to get detention.” There was a cold shiver down his spine and Draco turned around to see Mad-Eye Moody standing at the end of the row of books, looking much too smug. “Now I might have needed some pointers on punishing students, but I know damn well that words like that are not to be used. So let’s say another two weeks of detention? Oh, and minus twenty points from Slytherin.”

His housemates were going to be so pissed off.

There was a burst of amused, self-satisfaction and he glanced behind him to see Granger walk away with a large grin on her face.

Fuck his life.

* * *

Draco was in a bad mood and, much as Pansy adored him, she was getting sick of it. Daphne, who wasn’t as close to Draco as Pansy was, was obviously annoyed by him right now. They were in the common room again, privacy charms set up, and Draco had been snappish the whole time.

“You kind of brought this on yourself, Draco,” Pansy interrupted his angry muttering. “I completely get the temptation to just go up to one of them and yell at them, but you have to make sure no one’s around first.”

Draco glared at her and she stared him down as well. “Oh for...I’ll just leave you both to your staring contest,” Daph grumbled before heading for the stairs of the girls dormitory. Yeah, she was mad.

(Pansy couldn’t really blame her. When they were younger, she and Draco had once tried to stare each other down for nearly five minutes. Daphne and Theo had just started trading chocolate frog cards while waiting for one of them to blink first.)

Pansy knew she was really mad when she got back to their dorm and Daphne kept her back turned to her. She thought that this was uncharacteristically dramatic of Daph (though if this had been Little Greengrass, it would absolutely be on brand) and figured there was another reason. She finally got that reason in History of Magic class the next day while Binns was droning on about the goblin wars again.

(Merlin, how did he make a bloody war this boring sounding. Pansy had learned some of it before Hogwarts and her tutor hadn’t lost her interest once. She, Daphne, Draco, Blaise and Theo used to play out parts of it as a game, that’s how much their tutors had made it sound interesting.)

“I don’t know why you and Draco can’t just try and ignore them. They’re not like Potter. They don’t go out of their way to provoke you.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Weasl’s existence provokes me.” She didn’t wish that the name she’d gotten had been Draco’s, her huge crush on him had faded by now, but damn it all that she got the name of a blood traitor her family would never accept. “If he didn’t exist, maybe I’d have gotten a shot at love with a different soulmate.”

“Not necessarily. My parents are soulmates after all,” said Daphne, darkly.

“Your parents are...special.” There were many words she could have used there, but all of them would have hurt Daphne. Pansy didn’t care about pulling her punches with most people but Daphne was one of the few who made the cut for tact with her. “I’m not saying I was hoping for what Draco’s parents have, but I wanted love.”

Daphne ‘I hate love because my parents suck’ Greengrass bit her bottom lip but didn’t comment, which Pansy appreciated. “All I’m saying,” she started quietly, “is that we’re only in the middle of October. We still have to get through a whole year with them. I don’t get why you and Draco keep making things harder for yourselves.”

That comment might have gotten through to her if later that day she hadn’t got stuck behind Weasel and some of the other stupid Gryffindor boys in the corridor as they talked about the upcoming Tri-Wizard tournament. Finnegan was saying, “There’s got to be a way to get around the age limit. Did Fred and George say anything? They’re being a bit tight lipped about things lately.”

Weasel groaned and the bond instantly ignited; it made Pansy want to yank him back and really give him something to grunt about, and even she had no idea what way she meant it. Stupid bloody bond. Her thoughts were interrupted when Weasel said, “They won’t tell me and I’m their brother! I want to enter if they are. Can you just imagine what it’d be like to be the school champion.”

Pansy felt some emotion flicker inside. It wasn’t wistful and it wasn’t quite jealousy, but it was close to both and there was also a bit of anger behind it too. She thought she got it; Weasel had been friends with Potter since their first day at Hogwarts and Potter was always getting attention for some stupid stunt or another he was pulling. Maybe Weasel was getting tired of being in the shadows?

She could get that -Draco was always the one who got the most attention out of their whole house - but she wasn’t going to let herself sympathize with him. Instead, using the bond, she thought to him, _Are you serious? If there was no age limit, we all know who would be picked from Gryffindor: Potter._

Weasel made a growling noise and came to an abrupt stop and Pansy was walking too fast to stop herself in time. She collided with his back, and the bond practically burned now, since this was the only time they’d touched since he’d fallen on top of her in the Great Hall. “What the fuck, Weasley,” she snapped, just stopping her hands from grabbing onto him.

“Watch where you’re going,” he shot back, though she noticed one of his hands had twitched as if to grab her. (Well if she had to suffer at least he was too.)

“Maybe if you were actually noticeable I would,” she said before pushing past him.

“Mate, what the fuck was that,” asked Thomas, but she could barely hear any of them over the pounding in her ears. She wanted to go and hide in the Slytherin common room, but Parkinsons didn’t hide; so instead, she marched into the dining hall and pretended as if anyone by the name of Ronald Weasley didn’t exist.

If Pansy had hoped that would be the worst part of the week, she would be proven wrong the next morning when she got an owl from her father. Opening it, she read:

_Pansy,_

_What’s this I hear about you and your housemates being partnered with Gryffindors? This is unacceptable. I’ve tried to petition the Board of Governors but none of them will do anything with the tournament coming up._

_I don’t believe I have to remind you not to do anything to embarrass our family during this time. Nor should I have to remind you of the possible consequences if you were to become too close to someone beneath us. But I also know teenagers can be rebellious so consider this a reminder._

_Be a good girl._

_Love,_

_Dad_

“He acts like this is my fault,” she muttered before ripping up the letter. She’d been hoping her parents wouldn’t find out about everything so soon, but there was no way of changing that now. She was going to have to act like they were watching over her shoulder and she already felt exhausted by that idea.

* * *

Daphne had known since the end of summer that it was only a matter of time before Astoria found out about the soulmate mark, but she’d thought she could keep it secret for a bit longer. Unfortunately a bit longer only turned out to be the beginning of October. Even worse, the ensuing meltdown had happened in front of one of Potter’s friends.

She had met Granger in an empty classroom on the third floor to work on a project for Ancient Runes and on a completely unrelated note to look through a book Granger had that had more information on robots in it.

(“You just need to know that the kind of robots Harry had in mind are fictional ones; robotics is a field in the muggle world but those aren’t as advanced as the ones in books like these.”

That just raised more questions.)

Granger had walked over to a corner of the classroom to get another book for the project from her bag, when the door to the classroom suddenly slammed open. “Daphne!” shouted Astoria as she bounded into the room, face flushed.

Daphne was already on her feet, wand in hand, before she was even aware of moving. Her textbook and parchment went falling to the floor, and the desk itself ended up pushing back a few inches in her hurry. “What’s wrong?!” Her eyes were scanning her little sister, looking for any sign of injury or anything else visibly wrong.

Astoria paused long enough to take a breath before exclaiming, “Harry Potter’s your soulmate?!”

She really regretted telling Astoria where she’d be now.

Her heart rate took a couple seconds to get back to normal and she audibly groaned. “Salazar, Astoria, you scared the shite out of me. I thought something was actually wrong!” She loved her sister more than anything, but there were days…

“Sorry.” Astoria at least had the decency to look sheepish. “I was just surprised. How long have you known? And why didn’t you tell me?” There wasn’t a whine in her voice, but it was probably only a matter of seconds now.

Daphne ran a hand through her hair. “How did you find out?” By Merlin and Morgana, if Draco had opened his big mouth then she was going to kill him.

Astoria crossed her arms and frowned up at her. “That’s not important.” No, Daphne thought that was actually very important. She opened her mouth to argue but that was when she noticed that Tori looked upset. “I want to know why I didn’t find out from you, Daph! I would have told you like right after I got a name. And didn’t pretend that it just happened, I know you sent him-“

Astoria was suddenly interrupted by a voice coming from the corner of the room: “I feel like I shouldn’t be here for this conversation.” Oh, oh no. Her face felt warm as she turned around to look at Hermione Granger; the other witch had frozen when Astoria had burst into the room and one hand was still on her bag, though she turned in their direction to watch.

“You….you were here the whole time?” asked Astoria. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she could see that her sister’s face had gone red. Daphne covered her face with her hand; how could she have forgotten Granger was here? Damn it, her sister was the only person who could throw her off her game so much. (And Potter, but Daphne pushed that thought away almost as quickly as it came.)

“I’m afraid so,” Granger answered, a giggle escaping her lips.

“I’m sorry, Granger. Don’t go, my sister was just leaving-“

“Hi, I’m Astoria Greengrass,” her sister cut her off. Her face still looked pink but she reached around Daphne to hold out her hand to Granger. The muggleborn witch shook it, looking more bemused than anything. “I’m really sorry for running in like this. That was rude. I’m also sorry because I’m going to be more rude right now.”

Daphne and Granger had time to share an alarmed look before Astoria started talking, fast in French: _“I ran into Harry Potter, he was humming my song. I know I didn’t share it with him. He said no one played it for him and it was just in his head one day.”_

“Shit,” Daphne muttered, ignoring the raised eyebrow from Granger. Of all the people living in this castle, Astoria just had to run into him. She couldn’t even be annoyed with Potter here, at least not entirely, because she’d been weak enough to share that music with him. The way Astoria phrased it though confused her. _“He doesn’t know I shared it through the bond?”_ And she thought he’d been purposefully annoying her. _“How-“_

_“That’s not the point, Daphne! I do want to know why you sent him my song and not yours-“_

Merlin, because hearing him humming hers would have been a hundred times worse.

 _“But why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out by accident?”_ There was a whine in Astoria’s voice now, but what was worse was the hurt in her eyes. It made Daphne feel as if she’d kicked a puppy.

Daphne ran a hand through her hair. _“I was going to tell you soon. I just wanted to try and sort things out with him first. Look, Tori, I know you like the idea of the bond more-“_

 _“Wait, that’s why you didn’t tell me? Because of the fight we had last year?”_ The disbelief and hurt were quickly being swallowed by anger. _“Well, you know what? I’m not changing my mind. I’m not just letting you give up!”_

Her sister tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned to storm out of the room. Hurriedly, Daphne, switching back to English, said, “Don’t slam the” -both she and Granger flinched at the loud noise- “...door.” Groaning, Daphne sat back down at her desk. “Fantastic.”

Granger was side-eying her. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m just great. My sister thinks it’s her mission now to matchmake your friend and I, but I’ll survive.” Later Daphne was going to be very mad at herself for letting her guard down this much, but at the moment her one thought was: _Damn it, Astoria._

“That’s...actually kind of sweet,” Granger said.

Daphne just stared at her. “Do you want me to date Potter?”

“No,” Granger answered bluntly, blanching. If Daphne had cared about Potter in any way, that reaction from one of his best friends might have been hurtful. As it was, she agreed with Granger, though she doubted they had the same reasons for thinking it a terrible idea.

“So all of us are on the same page except Astoria. Hopefully, that will make stopping her easier.”

Daphne really doubted it but that was the hope. She held off on mentioning it to Potter for a few weeks, though Granger might have warned him for all she knew, but she definitely knew Astoria hadn’t done anything yet since he hadn’t complained to her. Then again that would be just like Astoria; she wouldn’t approach him right away, she’d try and make Daphne sweat a little, before finally making her move. The only upside to this would be that Tori would probably annoy the shite out of Potter too.

(Pansy and Draco had also failed to see the trouble her sister could potentially cause by doing this. It had been frustrating to bring it up and have them both basically shrugged her off.

“Just ignore it. Talking to Potter will probably put her off anyway,” said Draco.

“I told you that you should have said something to her sooner. You waited too long, so she ended up being a drama queen about it,” said Pansy. Both Daphne and Draco had stared at her then and she snapped, “What?”

“Pans, I love you, but you don’t get to call anyone else a drama queen,” Daphne had said before laughing.)

She finally decided to say something after finding him alone in the library one day. Well not exactly alone because Creevey was bugging him. “Leave,” she said, giving the boy a hard stare.

He left.

“Would it have killed you to ask him nicely?” Potter sounded exasperated, which made her grind her teeth. Underneath the table, where he couldn’t see, she clenched her hands into fists as the bond pressed down on her. _He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts._

“Alright. Next time I’ll say ‘Leave, Camera Boy’. How’s that?” She knew full well that the Gryffindor’s name was Colin Creevey but she wanted to annoy Potter.

He was glaring at her. “His name is Colin.”

“Whatever. Look I’m just warning you: my sister knows about the bond and she’s probably going to try and convince you to date me or something. I’m going to try and stop her but Astoria’s stubborn.”

He blinked. “Astoria? But that’s-“

He was going to bring up the song he didn’t even know she sent him, and she was not here for that. “She said she ran into you, yes.”

“But she’s a Ravenclaw. How is your sister not a Slytherin?” Daphne just stared at him and he grimaced as he must have realized how stupid that question was. Oh, but it was too late for him now.

Daphne smiled. “I’m so glad you asked Potter. You see at the beginning of the year at Hogwarts, there’s something called a Sorting. There’s this hat, you see, that decides which house you get put in. It sings a song about it and everything.” She was being completely condescending right now and having a lot of fun doing it. “During our first year, it said I was a Slytherin. Then two years later-“

“I get the point,” he snapped, green eyes flashing in anger. Oh, but she did enjoy that. “I’m sorry for disappointing your sister in advance, but you are the last person I’d ever date.”

“Right back at you.”

It was probably the only thing they agreed on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The schools and the Goblet of Fire itself will be next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
